UC-NRLF 


Xi      VNiVERS/TY 
\CAUFORNHA 


THE    SONG    OF    A    SINGLE    NOTE. 


A     SONG     OF    A 
SINGLE     NOTE 

A   LOVE   STORY 

By 

AMELIA    E.    BARR 

Author   of   "The    Bow   of  Orange  Ribbon,"   "The  Maid 
of  Maiden  Lane,"   etc. 


Beto  gork 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 
1902 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 
By  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


First  Edition  published  October,  1902. 


THE  BURR   PRINTING    HOUSE, 
NEW   YORK. 


fovs* 


TO 
MY  FRIEND, 

DR.  STEPHEN  DECATUR  HARRISON: 

An  American  who  loves  his  country  "Right  or  Wrong, 
And  who  always  believes  she  is  "Right," 

Tins  NOVEL 

IS    WITH    MUCH   ESTEEM 

DEDICATED. 


737 


Contents 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I.  RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  .  i 

II.  THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE     .  .          .21 

III.  LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY     .  .     50 

IV.  A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE     .  .     75 
V.  LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM    .  .   103 

VI.  THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    .  .   134 

VII.  THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE  .  .   160 

VIII.  THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN    .  .   185 

IX.  THE   TURN    OF   THE   TIDE    .  .          .211 

X.  MARIA    GOES    TO    LONDON    .  .  253 

XI.  THE   QUESTION    OF   MARRIAGE  .          .   283 

XII.  LOVE   AND   VICTORY      .  3°6 


List   of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

THE  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE — Frontispiece. 

MARIA  LAY  DRESSED  UPON   HER  BED     .     facing  100 

THE    DRUMMERS    AND    FIFERS    IN    FRONT    DID    NOT 

SEE  HIM facing  208 

HE     CAUSED    THE    SMALL    BOAT    TO     PUT     HIM     ON 

SHORE facing  320 


PROLOGUE. 

"Love,  its  flutes  will  still  be  stringing, 

Lovers  still  will  sigh  and  kneel ; 
Freedom  sets  her  trumpets  ringing 

To  the  clash  of  smiting  steel." 
So  I  weave  of  love  and  glory, 

Homely  toil,  and  martial   show, 
Fair  romance  from  the  grand  story 

Lived  a  century  ago. 


A  Song  of  a  Single  Note 

CHAPTER  I. 

RED   OR    BLUE    RIBBONS. 

IT  was  the  fourth  year  of  the  captivity  of  New 
York,  and  the  beleaguered  city,  in  spite  of  military 
pomp  and  display,  could  not  hide  the  desolations 
incident  to  her  warlike  occupation.  The  beautiful 
trees  and  groves  which  once  shaded  her  streets  and 
adorned  her  suburbs  had  been  cut  down  by  the  army 
sappers;  her  gardens  and  lawns  upturned  for  en 
trenchments  and  indented  by  artillery  wheels;  and 
some  of  the  best  parts  of  the  city  blackened  and 
mutilated  by  fire.  Her  churches  had  been  turned 
into  prisons  and  hospitals,  and  were  centres  of  inde 
scribable  suffering  and  poisonous  infection;  while 
over  the  burnt  district  there  had  sprung  up  a  town 
of  tents  inhabited  by  criminals  and  by  miserable 
wretches  whom  starvation  and  despair  had  turned 
into  highwaymen. 

But  these  conditions  were  the  work  of  man.  Na 
ture  still  lavished  upon  the  captive  city  a  glory  of 
sunshine  and  blue  skies ;  and  winds,  full  of  the  fresh 
ness  and  sparkle  of  the  great  sea,  blew  through  all 
her  sickly  streets.  Wherever  the  gardens  had  not 
been  destroyed,  there  was  the  scent  of  mays  and 


2        A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

laburnums,  and  the  indescribable  beauty  of  apple 
blossoms  on  the  first  day  of  their  birth. 

In  front  of  one  of  these  fortunate  enclosures,  be 
longing  to  a  little  house  on  Queen  Street,  an  old 
gentleman  was  standing,  looking  wistfully  in  at  a 
trellis  of  small  red  roses.  He  turned  away  with  a 
sigh  as  a  man  dressed  like  a  sailor  touched  him  on 
the  arm,  saying,  as  he  did  so : 

"Well,  then,  Elder,  a  good  afternoon  to  you?  I 
am  just  from  Boston,  and  I  have  brought  you  a 
letter  from  your  son/' 

"You,  De  Vries!     I  didna  look  for  you  just  yet." 

"You  know  how  it  is.  I  am  a  man  of  experience, 
and  I  had  a  good  voyage  both  ways." 

"And  Robertson  and  Elliot  and  Ludlow  will  have 
a  good  percentage  on  your  cargoes?" 

"That  is  the  way  of  business.  It  is  as  it  ought 
to  be.  I  do  not  defraud  or  condemn  the  Govern 
ment.  It  is  the  young — who  have  no  knowledge  or 
experience — who  do  such  things." 

"What  do  you  bring  in,  Captain?" 

"Some  provisions  of  all  kinds;  and  I  shall  take 
back  some  merchandise  of  all  kinds — for  them  who 
can  not  get  it  in  any  other  way." 

"To  Boston  again  ?" 

"This  time  only  to  the  Connecticut  coast.  The 
goods  will  easily  go  further.  The  trade  is  great. 
What  then?  I  must  waste  no  time;  I  have  to  live 
by  my  business." 

"And  I  have  nae  doubt  you  think  the  'business'  on 
the  King's  service." 

"Every  respectable  man  is  of  that  way  of  thinking. 
We  carry  no  military  stores.  I  am  very  precise 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  3 

about  that.  It  is  one  of  my  principles.  And  what, 
then,  would  the  merchants  of  New  York  do  without 
this  opening  for  trade  ?  They  would  be  ruined ;  and 
there  would  also  be  starvation.  They  who  say  dif 
ferent  are  fools;  we  give  help  and  comfort  to  the 
royalists,  and  we  distress  the  rebels,  for  we  take  from 
them  all  their  ready  money.  If  the  trade  was  not 
'on  the  King's  service/  the  Governor  would  not  be 
in  it." 

"Even  so !  That  circumstance  shows  it  is  not  far 
out  o'  the  way." 

"  'Out  of  the  way !'  What  the  deuce,  Elder !  I 
am  a  deacon  in  the  Middle  Kirk.  My  respectability 
and  honesty  cannot  be  concealed :  any  one  can  see 
them.  Batavius  de  Vries  would  not  steal  a  gros- 
chen ;  no,  nor  half  of  one !" 

"Easy,  easy,  Captain!  Why  should  you  steal? 
It  is  far  mair  lucrative  to  cheat  than  to  steal;  and 
the  first  is  in  the  way  o'  business — as  you  were  re 
marking.  But  this  or  that,  my  good  thanks  for  the 
letter  you  have  brought  me ;  and  is  there  anything  I 
can  do  in  return  for  your  civility?" 

"If  you  will  kindly  call  at  my  dwelling  and  tell 
Madame  I  am  arrived  here  safe  and  sound;  that 
would  be  a  great  satisfaction  for  us  both." 

"I  pass  your  door,  Captain,  and  I  will  tell  Mad 
ame  the  good  news.  Nae  doubt  she  will  gie  me  a 
smile  for  it." 

Then  De  Vries  turned  away  with  some  remark 
about  business,  and  Elder  Semple  stood  still  a  mo 
ment,  fingering  the  bulky  letter  which  had  been  given 
him;  and,  as  he  did  so,  wondering  what  he  should 
do,  for  "ill  news  comes  natural  these  days,"  he 


4        A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

thought,  "and  maybe  I  had  better  read  it  through, 
before  I  speak  a  word  to  Janet  anent  it.  I'll  step 
into  the  King's  Arms  and  see  what  Alexander  has 
to  say." 

When  he  entered  the  coffee-room  he  saw  his  son, 
Mr.  Neil  Semple,  and  Governor  Robertson  sitting  at 
a  table  with  some  papers  between  them.  Neil  smiled 
gravely,  and  moved  a  chair  into  place  for  his  father, 
and  the  Governor  said  pleasantly : 

"How  are  you,  Elder?  It  is  a  long  time  since  I 
saw  you." 

"I  am  as  well  as  can  be  expected,  considering  a' 
things,  Governor;  but  what  for  will  I  be  'Elder/ 
when  I  have  nae  kirk  to  serve?" 

"Is  that  my  fault,  Elder?" 

"You  might  have  spoke  a  word  for  the  reopening 
of  the  kirk,  and  the  return  o'  Dr.  Rogers.  Your 
affirmative  would  have  gone  a  long  way  toward  it. 
And  the  loyal  Calvinists  o'  New  York  hae  been  too 
long  kirkless.  What  for  didn't  you  speak  the  word, 
Governor?  What  for?" 

"Indeed,  Elder,  you  know  yourself  that  Dr. 
Rogers  is  a  proved  traitor.  As  a  fundamental  rule, 
a  Calvinist  is  a  democrat — exceptions,  of  course — 
like  yourself  and  your  worthy  sons,  but  as  a  funda 
mental,  natural  democrats.  There  is  the  Church  of 
England  open  for  all  services." 

"Aye;  and  there  is  the  Kirk  o'  Scotland  closed  for 
all  services.  What  has  the  Kirk  done  against  King 
George?" 

"Must  I  remind  you,  Elder,  that  her  ministers, 
almost  without  exception,  are  against  the  King? 
Did  not  this  very  Dr.  Rogers  pray  in  the  pulpit  for 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  5 

the  success  of  the  rebels?  As  for  the  Church  of 
Scotland,  she  has  been  troubling  kings,  and  encour 
aging  rebellion  ever  since  there  was  a  Church  of 
Scotland.  What  for?  No  reason  at  all,  that  I  can 
see." 

"Yes,  she  had  reason  enough.  Scotsmen  read 
their  Bibles,  and  they  thought  it  worth  while  to  fight 
for  the  right  to  do  so.  There's  your  colleague, 
Judge  Ludlow;  his  great-grandfather  fought  with 
Oliver  Cromwell  in  England  in  a  quarrel  of  the  same 
kind.  He  should  have  said  a  word  for  us." 

"Elder,  it  is  undeniable  that  Dissent  and  Calvin 
ism  are  opposed  to  royalty." 

"The  Kirk  is  not  subject  to  Caesar;  she  is  a  law 
unto  hersel' ;  and  the  Methodists  are  dissenters,  yet 
their  chapel  is  open." 

"The  loyalty  of  John  Wesley  is  beyond  impeach 
ment.  He  is  a  friend  of  the  King." 

"Yet  his  brother  Charles  was  imprisoned  for  pray 
ing  for  the  Pretender ;  and  nae  doubt  at  all,  he  him- 
sel'  would  gladly  have  followed  Prince  Charlie." 

"As  the  Semples  and  Gordons  did  do." 

"To  their  everlasting  glory  and  honor!  God 
bless  them!" 

"Will  your  Excellency  please  to  sign  these 
papers?"  interrupted  Neil;  and  his  calm  ignoring 
of  the  brewing  quarrel  put  a  stop  to  it.  The  papers 
were  signed,  and  the  Governor  rising,  said,  as  he 
offered  his  hand  to  the  Elder : 

"Our  sufferings  and  deprivations  are  unavoidable, 
sir.  Is  there  any  use  in  quarreling  with  the  wheel 
that  splashes  us?" 

"There  is  nane;  yet,  if  men  have  grievances " 


6        A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Grievances !  That  is  a  word  that  always  pleases, 
and  always  cheats.  There  are  no  grievances  be 
tween  you  and  me.  I  hope." 

"None  to  breed  ill-will.  Human  nature  is  falli 
ble,  but  as  a  rule,  Tory  doesna  eat  Tory." 

"And  as  for  the  Whigs,  Elder,  you  know  the  old 
fable  of  the  wolf  and  the  lamb.  Judging  from 
that  past  event,  Tory  and  Whig  may  soon  make  an 
eternal  peace." 

He  went  out  well  pleased  at  the  implication,  and 
Neil,  after  a  few  moments'  silence,  said,  "I  am  going 
to  register  these  documents,  sir,  or  I  would  walk 
home  with  you." 

"Much  obligated  to  you,  Neil,  but  I  can  tak'  very 
good  care  o'  mysel'.  And  I  have  a  letter  from  your 
brother  Alexander.  I  must  see  what  news  he  sends, 
before  I  tell  your  mother." 

He  was  opening  his  letter  as  he  spoke,  carefully 
cutting  round  the  large  red  seal,  which  bore  the 
arms  of  the  Semples,  and  which,  therefore,  he  would 
have  thought  it  a  kind  of  sacrilege  to  mutilate.  A 
cup  of  coffee  had  been  brought  to  him,  and  he  took 
one  drink  of  it,  and  then  no  more;  for  everything 
was  quickly  forgotten  or  ignored  in  the  intelligence 
he  was  receiving.  That  it  was  unexpected  and  as 
tonishing  was  evident  from  his  air  of  perplexity 
and  from  the  emotion  which  quite  unconsciously 
found  relief  in  his  constant  ejaculation,  "Most  ex 
traordinary!  Most  extraordinary!" 

Finally,  he  folded  up  the  epistle,  threw  a  shilling 
on  the  table  for  his  entertainment,  and  with  more 
speed  than  was  usual,  took  the  road  to  the  west  of 
Broadway.  He  had  been  remarkable  in  days  past 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  7 

for  his  erect  carriage,  but  he  walked  now  with  his 
head  bent  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  There 
was  so  much  that  he  did  not  want  to  see,  though  he 
was  naturally  the  most  curious  and  observant  of 
mortals.  Fifteen  minutes'  walk  brought  him  to  the 
river  side,  and  anon  to  a  large  house  separated  from 
his  own  by  a  meadow.  There  were  horses  tied  to  the 
fence  and  horses  tethered  in  the  garden;  and  in  a 
summer-house  under  a  huge  linden  tree,  a  party  of 
soldiers  drinking  and  playing  dominoes.  The  front 
door  was  partly  open,  and  a  piece  of  faded  red  ribbon 
was  nailed  on  its  lintel.  Semple  knocked  loudly 
with  his  walking-stick,  and  immediately  a  stout,  rosy 
woman  came  toward  him,  wiping  her  hands  on  a 
clean  towel  as  she  did  so. 

"Well,  then,  Elder!"  she  cried,  "you  are  a  good 
sight!  What  is  the  matter,  that  you  never  come 
once  to  see  us,  this  long  time?" 

"I  come  now  to  bring  you  good  news  Joanna — 
Madame,  I  should  say." 

"No,  no !  I  make  not  so  much  ceremony.  When 
you  say  'Joanna'  I  think  of  the  good  days,  before 
everybody  was  unfriends  with  each  other." 

"Well,  then,  Joanna,  your  husband  is  back  again; 
as  he  says,  safe  and  sound;  and  I  promised  him  to 
let  you  know  as  I  passed." 

"But  come  in  once,  Elder — come  in !" 

"Some  day — some  day  soon.  I  am  in  haste  at 
this  time — and  you  have  much  company,  I  see."  He 
spoke  with  evident  disapproval,  and  Joanna  was  at 
once  on  the  defensive. 

"I  know  not  how  to  alter  that.  A  good  wife  must 
do  some  little  thing  these  hard  times ;  for  what  is  to 


8        A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

come  after  them,  who  knows — and  there  are  many 
boys  and  girls — but  I  am  not  discontented;  I  like 
to  look  at  the  bright  side,  and  that  is  right,  is  it  not  ?" 

Semple  had  already  turned  away,  and  he  only 
struck  his  cane  on  the  flagged  walk  in  answer.  For 
while  Joanna  was  speaking  he  had  casually  noticed 
the  fluttering  red  ribbon  above  her  head ;  and  it  had 
brought  from  the  past  a  memory,  unbidden  and  un 
expected,  which  filled  his  eyes  with  the  thin,  cold 
tears  of  age,  and  made  his  heart  tremble  with  a  fear 
he  would  not  allow  himself  to  entertain. 

He  was  so  troubled  that  he  had  to  consciously 
gather  his  forces  together  before  he  entered  his  own 
dwelling.  It,  at  least,  kept  visible  state  and  order; 
the  garden,  perhaps,  showed  less  variety  and  wealth 
of  flowers;  but  the  quiet  dignity  of  its  handsomely 
furnished  rooms  was  intact.  In  their  usual  parlor, 
which  was  at  the  back  of  the  house,  he  found  his 
wife.  "You  are  late  to-day,  Alexander,"  she  said 
pleasantly;  "I  was  just  waiting  till  I  heard  your 
footstep.  Now  I  can  make  the  tea." 

"I'll  be  glad  o'  a  cup,  Janet.  I'm  fairly  tired,  my 
dearie." 

"What  kept  you  so  far  ahint  your  ordinar  time? 
I  thought  it  long  waiting  for  you." 

"Twa  or  three  things  kept  me,  that  I  am  not  ac 
countable  for.  I  was  on  the  way  hame,  when  Bata- 
vius  De  Vries  spoke  to  me." 

"He's  back  again,  is  he?  Few  words  would  do 
between  you  and  him." 

"He  brought  me  a  letter  from  our  lad  in  Boston; 
and  I  thought  I  would  go  into  the  King's  Arms  and 
read  it." 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  9 

"You  might  have  come  hame." 

"I  might;  but  I  thought  if  there  was  any  bad 
news  folded  in  the  paper,  I  would  just  leave  it  out 
side  our  hame." 

"There  is  naething  wrang,  then?" 

"It  is  an  astonishment — the  lad  has  sold  all  he  had 
and  gone  to  Scotland.  When  he  can  find  a  small 
estate  that  suits  him,  he  thinks  o'  buying  it,  and  be 
coming  'Semple  o'  that  Ilk.'  Alexander  aye  had  a 
hankering  after  land." 

"He  has  the  siller,  I  suppose;  there  is  no  land 
given  awa  in  Scotland." 

"Alexander  wasn't  born  yesterday.  He  has  been 
sending  siller  to  England  ever  since  the  first  whisper 
o'  these  troubles.  Ten  years  ago,  he  told  me  the 
Stamp  Act  riots  spelt  Revolution  and  maybe  Inde 
pendence;  and  that  in  such  case  the  best  we  could 
hope  for  would  be  a  dozen  or  mair  states,  each  with 
its  ain  rights  and  privileges  and  government ;  and  a 
constant  war  between  them.  He  is  a  far-seeing  lad, 
is  Alexander." 

"I  think  little  o'  his  far  sight.  There  are  others 
who  see  further  and  clearer:  petty  states  and  con 
stant  war !  Na,  na !  It's  not  so  zvritten." 

"Perhaps  he  is  right,  Janet." 

"Perhaps  is  a  wide  word,  Alexander.  Perhaps 
he  is  wrang.  Has  he  sailed  yet?  And  pray,  what 
is  to  become  of  the  little  Maria  ?" 

"He  sailed  a  week  since — and  Maria  is  coming 
to  us." 

"Coming  to  us !  And  what  will  we  do  wi'  the 
lassie?" 

"We'll  just  hae  to  love  and  comfort  her.     In  a 


io      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

way  she  has  neither  father  nor  mother — the  one  be 
ing  in  the  grave  and  the  other  beyond  seas.  She 
may  be  a  pleasure  to  our  auld  age;  when  she  was 
here  last  she  was  a  bonnie,  lovesome  little  creature." 

"That  is  mair  than  eight  years  ago,  and  she  was 
eight  years  old  then ;  she'll  be  sixteen  and  a  half,  or, 
perhaps,  nearer  seventeen  now — you  ken  weel  what 
to  expect  from  lassies  o'  that  indiscreet  age;  or,  if 
you  don't,  you  ought  to." 

"I  know  she  is  our  ain  grandbairn  and  that  we  be 
to  give  her  love  and  all  that  love  calls  for.  She  was 
the  very  image  o'  yoursel'  Janet,  and  her  father  was 
much  set  up  o'er  the  extraordinar  likeness." 

"I  thought  she  favored  you,  Alexander." 

"A  little — a  little,  perhaps — but  not  enough  to 
spoil  her.  If  she  has  kept  the  Gordon  beauty,  she 
will  be  a'  the  mair  welcome  to  me.  I  have  aye  had 
a  strong  prejudice  in  its  favor;"  and  he  leaned  for 
ward  and  took  Madame' s  small  brown  hand,  and 
then  there  was  a  look  and  a  smile  between  the  old 
lovers  that  made  all  words  impotent  and  unneces 
sary. 

Such  pauses  are  embarrassing;  the  lealest  hearts 
must  come  back  quickly  to  ordinary  life,  and  as  the 
Elder  passed  his  cup  for  more  tea,  Madame  asked : 
"What  way  is  the  lassie  coming?  By  land  or 
water?" 

"She  is  coming  by  land,  with  John  Bradley  and  his 
daughter." 

"How's  that?" 

"Madame  Charlton's  school  had  to  be  closed,  and 
Agnes  Bradley  was  one  of  the  scholars.  Her  father 
has  gone  to  Boston  to  bring  her  hame,  and  Maria 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  n 

being  her  friend  and  schoolmate,  Bradley  promised 
Alexander  to  see  her  safe  in  our  home  and  care. 
Doubtless,  he  is  well  able  to  keep  his  word.  If  the 
Governor  and  the  Commander-in-Chief  can  do  ought 
to  mak'  travel  safe,  John  Bradley  will  hae  their  as 
sistance;  but  I'm  vexed  to  be  put  under  an  obliga 
tion  to  him.  I  would  rather  have  sent  Neil,  or  even 
gane  mysel'." 

"What  ails  you  at  John  Bradley?  He  wears  the 
red  ribbon  on  his  breast,  and  it  blaws  o'er  his  shop 
door,  and  he  is  thick  as  thack  with  a'  the  dignities — 
civil  and  military." 

"I  don't  like  him,  and  I  don't  like  his  daughter 
being  friends  with  my  granddaughter." 

"He  serves  our  turn  now,  and  once  is  nae  cus 
tom." 

"Let  alone  the  fact  that  girls'  friendships  are  nae- 
thing  but  fine  words  and  sugar  candy.  I  shall  put  a 
stop  to  this  one  at  the  very  outset." 

"You'll  do  what,  gudeman?" 

"Put  my  commands  on  Maria.  I  shall  tell  her 
that  beyond  yea  and  nay,  and  a  fine  day,  or  the  like 
o'  that,  she  is  to  have  no  intercourse  wi'  John  Brad- 
ley's  daughter." 

"You'll  have  revolution  inside  the  house,  as  weel 
as  outside.  Let  the  girls  alane.  Some  young  men 
will  come  between  them  and  do  your  business  for 
you.  You  have  managed  your  lads  pretty  well — wi' 
my  help — but  two  schoolgirls  in  love  wi'  one  anither ! 
they  will  be  aboon  your  thumb — ane  o'  them  may 
keep  you  busy." 

"I  shall  lay  my  commands  on  Maria." 

"And  if  Maria  tak's  after  the  Gordons,  she'll  be 


12      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

far  mair  ready  to  give  commands  than  to  tak'  them. 
Let  be  till  she  gets  here.  When  did  she  leave  Bos 
ton?" 

"Mair  than  a  week  ago,  but  Sunday  intromits, 
and  Bradley,  being  what  they  call  a  local  preacher 
would  hae  to  exploit  his  new  sermon  and  hold  a  class 
meeting  or  a  love  feast;  forbye,  he  wouldna  neg 
lect  ony  bit  o'  business  that  came  his  way  on  the 
road.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  were  at  Stamford 
last  Sunday,  and  if  so,  they  would  be  maist  likely  at 
East  Chester  to-night.  They  might  be  here  to-mor 
row.  I'll  ask  Neil  to  ride  as  far  as  the  Halfway 
House;  he  will  either  find,  or  hear  tell  o'  them 
there." 

"What  for  should  Neil  tak'  that  trouble?  You 
ken,  as  weel  as  I  do,  that  if  Bradley  promised 
Maria's  father  to  deliver  her  into  your  hand,  at  your 
ain  house,  he  would  do  no  other  way.  Say  you  were 
from  hame,  he  would  just  keep  the  lassie  till  he  could 
keep  his  promise.  He  is  a  very  Pharisee  anent  such 
sma'  matters.  If  you  have  finished  your  tea,  gude- 
man,  I  will  get  the  dishes  put  by." 

They  both  rose  at  these  words,  Madame  pulled  a 
bell  rope  made  of  a  band  of  embroidery,  and  a  girl 
brought  her  a  basin  of  hot  water  and  two  clean 
towels.  Semple  lit  his  long,  clay  pipe  and  went  into 
the  garden  to  see  how  the  early  peas  were  coming 
on,  and  to  meditate  on  the  events  the  day  had 
brought  to  him.  Madame  also  had  her  meditations, 
as  she  carefully  washed  the  beautiful  Derby  china, 
and  the  two  or  three  Apostle  teaspoons,  and  put  them 
away  in  the  glass  cupboard  that  was  raised  in  one 
corner  of  the  room.  Her  thoughts  were  complex, 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  13 

woven  of  love  and  hope  and  fear  and  regret.  The 
advent  of  her  granddaughter  was  not  an  unmixed 
delight;  she  was  past  sixty,  not  in  perfect  health, 
and  she  feared  the  care  and  guiding  of  a  girl  of 
scarce  seventeen  years  old. 

"Just  the  maist  unreasonable  time  of  any  woman's 
life,"  she  sighed.  "At  that  age,  they  are  sure  they 
know  a'  things,  and  can  judge  a'  things;  and  to 
doubt  it  is  rank  tyranny,  and  they  are  in  a  blaze  at  a 
word,  for  they  have  every  feeling  at  fever  heat.  A 
body  might  as  well  try  to  reason  wi'  a  baby  or  a 
bull,  for  they'll  either  cry  or  rage,  till  you  give  in  to 
them.  However,  Maria  has  a  deal  o'  Gordon  in 
her,  and  they  are  sensible  bodies — in  the  main.  I'll 
even  do  as  the  auld  song  advises : 

"Bide  me  yet,  and  bide  me  yet, 
For  I  know  not  what  will  betide  me  yet." 

When  the  room  was  in  order,  she  threw  a  shawl 
round  her  and  went  to  her  husband.  "I  hae  come  to 
bring  you  inside,  Elder,"  she  said,  "the  night  air 
is  chilly  and  damp  yet,  and  you  arena  growing 
younger." 

"I  walked  down  as  far  as  the  river  bank,  Janet," 
he  answered,  "and  I  see  the  boat  is  rocking  at  her 
pier.  Neil  should  look  after  her." 

"Neil  is  looking  after  another  kind  of  a  boat  at 
present.  I  hope  he  will  have  as  much  sense  as  the 
rats,  and  leave  a  sinking  ship  in  good  time  to  save 
himsel'." 

"Janet,  you  should  be  feared  to  say  such  like 
words !  They  are  fairly  wicked — and  they  gie  me  a 
sair  heart." 


14      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Oh,  forgive  me,  Alexander!  My  thoughts  will 
fly  to  my  lips.  I  forget!  1  forget!  I  hae  a  sair 
heart,  too" — and  they  went  silently  into  the  house 
with  this  shadow  between  them  until  Janet  said : 

"Let  me  help  you  off  wi'  your  coat,  dearie.  Your 
soft,  warm  wrap  is  here  waiting  for  you,"  and 
against  her  gentle  words  and  touch  he  had  no  armor. 
His  offense  melted  away,  he  let  her  help  him  to  re 
move  his  heavy  satin-lined  coat,  with  its  long  stif 
fened  skirts,  and  fold  round  his  spare  form  the  dam- 
asse  wrap  with  its  warm  lining  of  flannel.  Then, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief  he  sat  down,  loosened  his  neck 
band,  handed  Madame  his  laces,  and  called  for  a 
fresh  pipe." 

In  the  meantime  Madame  hung  the  coat  carefully 
over  a  chair,  and  in  flecking  off  a  little  dust  from  its 
richly  trimmed  lapel,  she  tossed  aside  with  an  un 
conscious  contempt,  the  bit  of  scarlet  ribbon  at  the 
buttonhole.  "You  are  requiring  a  new  ribbon,  Al 
exander,"  she  said.  "If  you  must  wear  your  colors 
on  your  auld  breast,  1  would,  at  least,  hae  them 
fresh." 

He  either  ignored,  or  did  not  choose  to  notice  the 
spirit  of  her  words ;  he  took  them  at  their  face  value, 
and  answered:  "You  are  right,  Janet.  I'll  buy  a 
half  yard  in  the  morning.  I  tell  you,  that  one  bit 
o'  rusty,  draggled  red  ribbon  gave  me  a  heart-ache 
this  afternoon." 

Madame  did  not  make  the  expected  inquiry,  and 
after  a  glance  into  her  face  he  continued :  "It  was  at 
the  Van  Heemskirk's  house.  I  was  talking  to  Jo 
anna,  and  I  saw  it  o'er  the  door,  and  remembered  the 
night  my  friend  Joris  nailed  up  the  blue  ribbon 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  15 

which  Batavius  has  taken  down.  I  could  see  him 
standing  there,  with  his  large  face  smiling  and  shin 
ing,  and  his  great  arms  reaching  upward,  and  I 
could  hear  the  stroke  o'  the  hammer  that  seemed  to 
keep  time  to  his  words:  'Alexander  myn  jougenl' 
he  said,  'for  Freedom  the  color  is  always  blue.  Over 
my  house  door  let  it  blow ;  yes,  then,  over  my  grave 
also,  if  God's  will  it  be/  And  I  answered  him,  'you 
are  a  fool,  Joris,  and  you  know  not  what  you  are 
saying  or  doing,  and  God  help  you  when  you  do 
come  to  your  senses.'  Then  he  turned  round  with 
the  hammer  in  his  hand  and  looked  at  me — I  shall 
never  forget  that  look — and  said  'a  little  piece  of 
blue  ribbon,  Alexander,  but  for  a  man's  life  and 
liberty  it  stands,  for  dead  already  is  that  man  who 
is  not  free/  Then  he  took  me  into  the  garden,  and 
as  we  walked  he  could  talk  of  naething  else,  'men 
do  not  need  in  their  coffins  to  lie  stark,'  he  said, 
'they  may  without  that,  be  dead ;  walking  about  this 
city  are  many  dead  men.'  ' 

"Joris  Van  Heemskirk  is  a  good  man.  Wherever 
he  is,  I  ken  well,  he  is  God's  man,"  said  Janet,  "doing 
his  duty  simply  and  cheerfully." 

"As  he  sees  duty,  Janet;  I  am  sure  o'  that. 
And  as  he  talked  he  kept  touching  the  ribbon  in  his 
waistcoat,  as  if  it  was  a  sacred  thing,  and  when  I 
said  something  o'  the  kind,  he  answered  me  out  o' 
the  Holy  Book,  and  bid  me  notice  God  himself 
had  chosen  blue  and  told  Israel  to  wear  it  on  the 
fringes  o'  their  garments  as  a  reminder  o'  their  de 
liverance  by  Him.  Then  I  couldna  help  speaking  o' 
the  Scotch  Covenanters  wearing  the  blue  ribbon,  and 
he  followed  wi'  the  Dutch  Protestors,  and  I  was  able 


16      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

to  cap  the  noble  army  wi'  the  English  Puritans  right 
ing  under  Cromwell  for  civil  and  religious  liberty." 

"And  gudeman !"  cried  Janet,  all  in  a  tremble  of 
enthusiasm,  "General  Washington  is  at  this  very 
time  wearing  a  broad  blue  ribbon  across  his  breast;'' 
and  there  was  such  a  light  in  her  eyes,  and  such 
pride  in  her  voice,  the  Elder  could  not  say  the  words 
that  were  on  his  tongue;  he  magnanimously  passed 
by  her  remark  and  returned  to  his  friend,  Joris  Van 
Heemskirk.  "Blue  or  red,"  he  continued,  "we  had  a 
wonderfu'  hour,  and  when  we  came  to  part  that 
night  we  had  no  need  to  take  each  other's  hands; 
we  had  been  walking  hand-in-hand  together  like  twa 
laddies,  and  we  did  not  know  it." 

"You'll  have  many  a  happy  day  with  your  friend 
yet,  gudeman;  Joris  Van  Heemskirk  will  come 
hame  again." 

"He  will  hae  a  sair  heart  when  he  sees  his  hame, 
specially  his  garden." 

"He  will  hae  something  in  his  heart  to  salve  all 
losses  and  all  wrongs ;  but  I  wonder  Joanna  doesna 
take  better  care  o'  her  father's  place." 

"She  canna  work  miracles.  I  thought  when  I  got 
her  there  as  tenant  o'  the  King,  she  would  keep  a' 
things  as  they  were  left;  but  Batavius  has  six  or 
eight  soldiers  boarding  there — low  fellows,  non 
commissioned  officers  and  the  like  o'  them — and  the 
beautiful  house  is  naething  but  barricks  in  their 
sight ;  and  as  for  the  garden,  what  do  they  care  for 
boxwood  and  roses?  They  dinna  see  a  thing  be 
yond  their  victuals,  and  liquor,  and  the  cards  and 
dominoes  in  their  hands.  Joanna  has  mair  than  she 
can  manage." 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  17 

"Didn't  Batavius  sell  his  house  on  the  East  river?" 

"Of  course  he  did — to  the  Government — made  a 
good  thing  of  it;  then  he  got  into  his  father-in-law's 
house  as  a  tenant  of  the  Government.  I  don't  think 
he  ever  intends  to  move  out  of  it.  When  the  war  is 
over  he  will  buy  it  for  a  trifle,  as  confiscated  prop 
erty." 

"He'll  do  naething  o'  the  kind!  He'll  never, 
never,  never  buy  it.  You  may  tak'  my  solemn  word 
for  that,  Alexander  Semple." 

"How  do  you  ken  so  much,  Janet  ?" 

"The  things  we  ken  best,  are  the  things  we  were 
never  told.  I  will  not  die  till  I  have  seen  Joris  Van 
Heemskirk  smoking  his  pipe  with  you  on  his  ain 
hearth,  and  in  his  ain  summer-house.  He  can  paint 
some  new  mottoes  o'er  it  then." 

She  was  on  the  verge  of  crying,  but  she  spoke  with 
an  irresistible  faith,  and  in  spite  of  his  stubborn  loy 
alty  to  King  George,  Semple  could  not  put  away  the 
conviction  that  his  wife's  words  were  true.  They 
had  all  the  force  of  an  intuition.  He  felt  that  the 
conversation  could  not  be  continued  with  Joris  Van 
Heemskirk  as  its  subject,  and  he  said,  "I  wonder 
what  is  keeping  Neil?  He  told  me  he  would  be 
hame  early  to-night." 

"Then  you  saw  him  to-day?" 

"He  was  in  the  King's  Arms,  when  I  went  there 
to  read  my  letter — he  and  Governor  Robertson — and 
I  had  a  few  words  wi'  the  Governor  anent  Dr.  Rog 
ers  and  the  reopening  of  our  kirk." 

"You  did  well  and  right  to  speak  them.  It  is  a 
sin  and  a  shame  in  a  Christian  country  to  be  kept  out 
o'  Sabbath  ordinances." 


18      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"He  told  me  we  had  the  Church  o'  England  to 
go  to." 

"Aye ;  and  we  hae  the  King  o'  England  to  serve." 

"Here  comes  Neil,  and  I  am  glad  o'  it.  Some 
how,  he  makes  things  mair  bearable." 

The  young  man  entered  with  a  grave  cheerful 
ness  ;  he  bowed  to  his  father,  kissed  his  mother,  and 
then  drew  a  chair  to  the  cold  hearth.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  rang  the  bell,  and  when  it  was  answered, 
bid  the  negro  bring  hot  coals  and  kindle  the  fire. 

"Neil,  my  dear  lad,"  said  the  Elder,  "are  you  re 
membering  that  wood  is  nearly  ungetable — ten 
pounds  or  mair  a  cord?  I  hae  but  little  left.  I'm 
feared  it  won't  see  the  war  out." 

"If  wood  is  getable  at  any  price,  I  am  not  walling 
to  see  mother  and  you  shivering.  Burn  your  wood 
as  you  need  it,  and  trust  for  the  future." 

"I  hae  told  your  father  the  same  thing  often,  Neil ; 
careful,  of  course,  we  must  be,  but  sparing  is  not 
caring.  There  was  once  a  wife  who  always  took 
what  she  wanted,  and  she  always  had  enough."  The 
fire  blazed  merrily,  and  Neil  smiled,  and  the  Elder 
stretched  out  his  thin  legs  to  the  heat,  and  the  whole 
feeling  of  the  room  was  changed.  Then  Madame 
said : 

"Neil,  your  brother  Alexander  has  gane  to  Scot 
land." 

"I  expected  him  to  take  that  step." 

"And  he  is  sending  little  Maria  to  us,  until  he  gets 
a  home  for  her." 

"I  should  not  think  she  will  be  much  in  the  way, 
mother.  She  is  only  a  child." 

"She  is  nearly  seventeen  years  old.     She  won't  be 


RED  OR  BLUE  RIBBONS  19 

much  in  my  way ;  it  is  you  that  will  hae  to  take  her 
out — to  military  balls  and  the  like." 

"Nonsense !  I  can't  have  a  child  trailing  after  me 
in  such  places." 

"Vera  likely  you  will  trail  after  her.  You  will  be 
better  doing  that  than  after  some  o'  the  ladies  o' 
Clinton's  court." 

"I  can  tell  you,  Neil,"  said  Neil's  father,  "that 
it  is  a  vera  pleasant  sensation,  to  hae  a  bonnie  lassie 
on  your  arm  wha  is,  in  a  manner,  your  ain.  I  ken 
naething  in  the  world  that  gives  a  man  such  a  su 
perior  feeling." 

Neil  looked  at  the  speaker  with  a  curious  admira 
tion.  He  could  not  help  envying  the  old  man  who 
had  yet  an  enthusiasm  about  lovely  women. 

"I  fancy,  sir,"  he  answered,  "that  the  women  of 
your  youth  were  a  superior  creation  to  those  of  the 
present  day.  I  cannot  imagine  myself  with  any 
woman  whose  society  would  give  me  that  sensa 
tion." 

"Women  are  always  the  same,  Neil — yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever.  What  they  are  now,  they  were 
in  Abraham's  time,  and  they  will  be  when  time  shall 
be  nae  langer.  Is  not  that  so,  mother?" 

"Maybe;  but  you'll  tak'  notice,  they  hae  suited  a' 
kinds  o'  men,  in  a'  countries  and  in  a'  ages.  I  dare 
say  our  little  Maria  will  hae  her  lovers  as  well  as  the 
lave  o'  them,  and  her  uncle  Neil  will  be  to  keep  an 
eye  on  them.  But  I'm  weary  and  sleepy,  and  if  you 
men  are  going  to  talk  the  fire  out  I'll  awa'  to  my 
room  and  my  bed." 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  father,"  answered 
Neil,  "about  the  Government,  and  so — 


20      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Oh,  the  Government!"  cried  Madame,  as  she 
stood  with  her  lighted  candle  in  her  hand  at  the  open 
door;  "dinna  call  it  a  government,  Neil;  call  it  a 
blunderment,  or  a  plunderment,  if  you  like,  but  the 
other  name  is  out  o'  all  befitting." 

"Mother,  wait  a  moment,"  said  Neil.  "You  were 
saying  that  Maria  would  want  to  be  taken  to  dances ; 
I  got  an  invitation  to-day.  What  do  you  say  to  this 
for  an  introduction?"  As  he  spoke  he  took  out  of 
his  pocket  a  gilt-edged  note  tied  with  transverse 
bands  of  gold  braid  and  narrow  red  ribbon.  Mad 
ame  watched  him  impatiently  as  he  carefully  and 
deliberately  untied  the  bows,  and  his  air  of  reveren 
tial  regard  put  her  in  a  little  temper. 

"Cut  the  strings  and  be  done  wi'  it,  Neil,"  she  said 
crossly.  "There  is  nae  invite  in  the  world  worth 
such  a  to-do  as  you  are  making.  And  dinna  forget, 
my  lad,  that  you  once  nearly  threw  your  life  awa'  for 
a  bit  o'  orange  ribbon !  Maybe  the  red  is  just  as 
dangerous." 

Then  Neil  took  the  red  ribbon  between  his  finger 
and  thumb,  and  dropping  it  into  the  fire  looked  at 
his  mother  with  the  denial  in  his  face.  "It  is  from 
Mrs.  Percival,"  he  said;  and  she  nodded  her  under 
standing,  but  could  not  help  giving  him  a  last  word 
ere  she  closed  the  door : 

"If  you  hae  a  fancy  for  ribbons,  Neil,  tak'  my 
advice,  and  get  a  blue  one;  a'  the  good  men  in  the 
country  are  wearing  blue." 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE. 

AT  breakfast  next  morning  the  conversation 
turned  naturally  upon  the  arrival  of  Maria  Semple. 
The  Elder  showed  far  the  most  enthusiasm  concern 
ing  it.  He  wondered,  and  calculated,  and  supposed, 
till  he  felt  he  had  become  tiresome  and  exhausted 
sympathy,  and  then  he  subsided  into  that  painful  at 
titude  of  disappointment  and  resignation,  which  is, 
alas,  too  often  the  experience  of  the  aged?  His 
companions  were  not  in  sympathy  with  him.  Mad 
ame  was  telling  herself  she  must  not  expect  too 
much.  Once  she  had  set  her  heart  upon  a  beautiful 
girl  who  was  to  become  Neil's  wife,  and  her  love  had 
been  torn  up  by  the  roots :  "maist  women  carry  a 
cup  of  sorrow  for  some  one  to  drink,"  she  thought, 
"and  I'm  feared  for  them."  As  for  Neil,  he  felt 
sure  the  girl  was  going  to  be  a  tie  and  a  bore,  and  he 
considered  his  brother  exceedingly  selfish  in  throw 
ing  the  care  of  his  daughter  upon  his  aged  parents. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  meal,  but  in  good  hearts  de 
pression  and  doubt  find  no  abiding  place.  When 
Neil  had  gone  to  his  affairs,  the  Elder  looked  at  his 
wife,  and  she  gave  him  his  pipe  with  a  smile,  and 
talked  to  him  about  Maria  as  she  put  away  her  china. 
And  she  had  hardly  turned  the  key  of  the  glass 


22      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

closet,  when  the  knocker  of  the  front  door  fell  twice 
— two  strokes,  clear,  separate,  distinct.  The  Elder 
rose  quickly  and  with  much  excitement.  "That  is 
Bradley's  knock,"  he  said ;  "I  never  heard  it  before, 
but  it  is  just  the  way  he  would  call  any  one." 

He  was  going  out  of  the  room  as  he  spoke,  and 
Madame  joined  him.  When  they  entered  the  hall 
the  front  door  was  open,  and  a  short,  stout  man  was 
standing  on  the  threshold,  holding  a  young  girl  by 
the  hand.  He  delivered  her  to  the.  Elder  very  much 
as  he  would  have  delivered  a  valuable  package  in 
trusted  to  his  care,  and  then,  as  they  stood  a  few 
moments  in  conversation,  Maria  darted  forward,  and 
with  a  little  cry  of  joy  nestled  her  head  on  her  grand 
mother's  breast.  The  confiding  love  of  the  action 
was  irresistible.  "You  darling!"  whispered  the 
old  lady  with  a  kiss ;  "let  me  look  at  you !"  And  she 
put  her  at  arm's  length,  and  gazed  at  the  pretty,  dark 
face  with  its  fine  color,  and  fine  eyes,  charmingly  set 
off  by  the  scarlet  hood  of  her  traveling  cloak. 

"What  do  you  think  o'  your  granddaughter,  El 
der?"  she  asked,  when  he  joined  them,  and  her  voice 
was  trembling  with  love  and  pride. 

"I  think  she  is  yoursel'  o'er  again ;  the  vera  same 
bonnie  Janet  Gordon  I  woo'd  and  loved  in  Strath- 
alien  nearly  fifty  years  syne.  Come  and  gie  me 
twenty  kisses,  bairnie.  You  are  a  vera  cordial  o' 
gladness  to  our  hearts." 

Madame  had  swithered  in  her  own  mind  before 
the  arrival  of  Maria  about  the  room  she  was  to  oc 
cupy — the  little  one  in  the  wing,  furnished  in  rush 
and  checked  blue  and  white  linen;  or  the  fine  guest 
room  over  the  best  parlor.  A  few  moments  with  her 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      23 

grandchild  had  decided  her.  "She  shall  hae  the  best 
we  have/'  she  concluded.  "What  for  would  I  gie 
it  to  my  cousin  Gordon's  wife,  and  lock  my  ain  flesh 
and  blood  out  o'  it  ?"  So  she  took  Maria  to  her  best 
guest  chamber,  and  when  the  girl  stood  in  the  center 
of  it  and  looked  round  with  an  exclamation  of  de 
light,  she  was  well  rewarded. 

"This  is  the  finest  room  I  ever  saw,"  said  Maria. 
"I  love  splendid  rooms,  and  mahogany  makes  any 
place  handsome.  And  the  looking  glasses!  O 
grandmother,  I  can  see  myself  from  top  to  toe !"  and 
she  flung  aside  her  cloak,  and  surveyed  her  little  fig 
ure  in  its  brown  camblet  dress  and  long  white  stom 
acher,  with  great  satisfaction. 

"And  where  are  your  clothes,  Maria?"  asked 
Madame. 

"I  brought  a  small  trunk  with  me,  and  Mr.  Brad 
ley  will  send  it  here  this  morning;  the  rest  of  my 
trunks  were  sent  with  Captain  De  Vries.  I  dare  say 
they  will  be  here  soon." 

"They  are  here  already,  De  Vries  arrived  yester 
day;  but  the  rest  o'  your  trunks,  how  many  more 
have  you,  lassie?" 

"Three  large,  and  one  little  one.  Father  told  me 
I  was  to  get  everything  I  wanted,  and  I  wanted  so 
many  things.  I  got  them  all,  grandmother — beauti 
ful  dresses,  and  mantillas,  and  pelerines ;  and  dozens 
of  pretty  underwear.  I  have  had  four  women  sew 
ing  for  me  ever  since  last  Christmas." 

"But  the  expense  o'  it,  Maria!" 

"Mrs.  Charlton  said  I  had  simply  received  the 
proper  outfit  for  a  young  lady  entering  society." 

"But  whatever  did  your  father  say?" 


24      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"He  whistled  very  softly.  There  are  many  ways 
of  whistling,  grandmother,  and  my  father's  whistle 
was  his  form  of  saying  he  was  astonished." 

"I  hae  no  doubt  he  was  astonished." 

"I  had  to  have  summer  and  winter  dresses,  and 
ball  dresses,  and  home  dresses,  and  street  dresses; 
and  all  the  little  things  which  Mrs.  Charlton  says 
are  the  great  things.  Father  is  very  generous  to 
me,  and  he  has  ordered  Lambert  and  Co.  to  send 
me  thirty  pounds  every  month.  He  told  me  that 
food  and  wood  and  every  necessity  of  life  was 
very  dear  in  New  York,  and  that  if  I  was  a  good 
girl  I  would  do  my  full  share  in  bearing  the  burden 
of  life." 

This  was  her  pretty  way  of  making  it  understood 
that  she  was  to  pay  liberally  for  her  board,  and  then, 
with  a  kiss,  she  added,  "let  us  go  downstairs.  I 
want  to  see  all  the  house,  grandmother.  It  is  like 
home,  and  I  have  had  so  little  home.  All  my  life 
nearly  has  been  spent  at  school.  Now  I  am  come 
home." 

They  went  down  hand  in  hand,  and  found  the  El 
der  walking  about  in  an  excited  manner.  "I  think  I 
shall  bide  awa'  from  business  to-day,"  he  said;  "I 
dinna  feel  like  it.  It  isna  every  day  a  man  gets  a 
granddaughter." 

"Tuts!  Nonsense,  Alexander!  Go  your  ways 
to  the  store,  then  you  can  talk  to  your  acquaintance 
o'  your  good  fortune.  Maria  and  I  will  hae  boxes  to 
unpack,  and  clothes  to  put  away ;  and  you  might  as 
weel  call  at  De  Vries,  and  tell  him  to  get  Miss  Sem- 
ple's  trunks  here  without  sauntering  about  them. 
Batavius  is  a  slow  creature.  And  Neil  must  hae  the 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      25 

news  also,  so  just  be  going  as  quick  as  you  can, 
Alexander." 

He  was  disappointed;  he  had  hoped  that  Maria 
would  beg  him  to  stay  at  home,  but  he  put  on  his 
long  coat  with  affected  cheerfulness,  and  with  many 
little  delays  finally  took  the  road.  Then  the  two 
women  went  through  the  house  together,  and  by  that 
time  Bradley  had  sent  the  small  trunk,  and  they 
unpacked  it,  and  talked  about  the  goods,  and  about 
a  variety  of  subjects  that  sprang  naturally  from  the 
occupation. 

All  at  once  Madame  remembered  to  ask  Maria 
where  she  had  spent  the  previous  night,  and  the  girl 
answered,  "I  slept  at  the  Bradley's.  It  was  quite 
twilight  when  we  reached  their  house,  and  Mr. 
Bradley  said  this  road  was  beset  by  thieves  and  bad 
people  after  dark,  and  he  also  thought  you  retired 
early  and  would  not  care  to  be  disturbed." 

"Vera  considerate  o'  Mr.  Bradley,  I  am  sure; 
perhaps  mair  so  than  necessary.  Maria,  my  dear,  I 
hope  you  are  not  very  friendly  wi'  his  daughter." 

"Not  friendly  with  Agnes  Bradley!  Why, 
grandmother,  I  could  not  be  happy  without  her! 
She  has  been  my  good  angel  for  three  years.  When 
she  came  to  Mrs.  Charlton's  I  had  no  friends,  for 
I  had  such  a  bad  temper  the  girls  called  me  'Spit 
fire'  and  'Vixen'  and  such  names,  and  I  was  proud 
of  it.  Agnes  has  made  me  gentle  and  wishful  to 
do  right.  Agnes  is  as  nearlv  an  angel  as  a  woman 
can  be." 

"Fair  nonsense,  Maria!  And  I  never  was  fond 
o'  angelic  women,  they  dinna  belong  to  this  world ; 
and  your  grandfather  dislikes  John  Bradley,  he  will 


26      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

not  allow  any  friendship  between  you  and  Agnes 
Bradley.  That  is  sure  and  certain." 

"What  has  Mr.  Bradley  done  wrong  to  grand 
father?" 

"Naething;  naething  at  all!  He  just  does  not 
like  him." 

"I  shall  have  to  explain  things  to  grandfather. 
He  ought  not  to  take  dislikes  to  people  without 
reason." 

"There's  no  one  can  explain  things  to  your 
grandfather  that  he  does  not  want  to  understand. 
I  know  naething  o'  John  Bradley,  except  that  he  is 
a  Methodist,  and  that  kind  o'  people  are  held  in 
scorn." 

"I  think  we  can  use  up  all  our  scorn  on  the  Whigs, 
grandmother,  and  let  the  Methodists  alone.  Mr. 
Bradley  is  a  Tory,  and  trusted  and  employed  by  the 
Government,  and  I  am  sure  he  preached  a  beautiful 
sermon  last  Sunday  at  Stamford." 

"Your  grandfather  said  he  would  preach  at  Stam 
ford." 

"He  preached  on  the  green  outside  the  town. 
There  were  hundreds  to  listen  to  him.  Agnes  led 
the  singing." 

"Maria  Semple!  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you 
were  at  a  field  preaching!" 

"It  was  a  good  preaching  and— 

"The  man  is  a  saddle-maker!  I  hae  seen  him 
working,  day  in  and  day  out,  in  his  leather  apron." 

"St.  Paul  was  a  tent-maker;  he  made  a  boast  of 
it,  and  as  he  was  a  sensible  man,  I  have  no  doubt 
he  wore  an  apron.  He  would  not  want  to  spoil 
his  toga." 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      27 

"Hush!  Hush!  You  must  not  speak  o'  Saint 
Paul  in  that  tempered  and  common  way.  The 
Apostles  belong  to  the  Kirk.  Your  father  was 
brought  up  a  good  Presbyterian." 

"Dear  grandmother,  I  am  the  strictest  kind  of 
Presbyterian.  I  really  went  to  hear  Agnes.  If  you 
had  seen  her  standing  by  her  father's  side  on  that 
green  hill  and  heard  her  sing : 

"Israel,  what  hast  thou  to  dread? 

Safe  from  all  impending  harms, 
Round  thee,  and  beneath  thee,  spread, 
Are  the  everlasting  arms." 

you  would  have  caught  up  the  song  as  hundreds  did 
do,  till  it  spread  to  the  horizon,  and  rose  to  the  sky, 
and  was  singing  and  praying  both.  People  were 
crying  with  joy,  and  they  did  not  know  it." 

"I  would  call  her  a  dangerous  kind  o'  girl.  Has 
she  any  brothers  or  sisters  ?" 

"Her  brother  went  to  an  English  school  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  He  was  to  finish  his  educa 
tion  at  Oxford.  Annie  Gardiner — one  of  the  school 
girls — told  me  so.  He  was  her  sweetheart.  She 
has  no  sisters." 

"Sweetheart?" 

"Just  boy  and  girl  sweethearting.  Agnes  sel 
dom  spoke  of  him;  sometimes  she  got  letters  from 
him." 

"Has  Agnes  a  sweetheart?" 

"There  was  a  young  gentleman  dressed  like  a 
sailor  that  called  on  her  now  and  then.  We  thought 
he  might  be  an  American  privateer." 

"Then  Agnes  Bradley  is  for  the  Americans! 
Well,  a  good  girl,  like  her,  would  be  sure  to  take  the 


28      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

right  side.  Nae  doubt  the  hymn  she  sung  referred 
to  the  American  army." 

"I  am  sure  people  thought  so;  indeed,  I  fear 
Agnes  is  a  little  bit  of  a  rebel,  but  she  has  to  keep 
her  thoughts  and  feelings  to  herself." 

"Plenty  o'  folks  hae  to  do  the  same;  thought  may 
be  free  here,  but  speech  is  bond  slave  to  His  Majesty 
George  o'  Hanover,  or  England,  or  Brunswick,  or 
what  you  like." 

"Or  America!" 

"Nae,  nae!  You  may  make  that  last  statement 
wi'  great  reservation,  Maria.  But  we  must  make 
no  statements  that  will  vex  your  grandfather,  for 
he  is  an  auld  man,  and  set  in  his  ways,  and  he  does 
not  believe  in  being  contradicted." 

And  at  this  moment  they  heard  the  Elder's  voice 
and  step.  He  came  in  so  happily,  and  with  such 
transparent  excuses  for  his  return  home,  that  the 
women  could  not  resist  his  humor.  They  pretended 
to  be  delighted ;  they  said,  "how  nice  it  was  that  he 
had  happened  to  arrive  just  as  dinner  was  ready  to 
serve;"  they  even  helped  him  to  reasons  that  made 
his  return  opportune  and  fortunate.  And  Batavius 
arriving  with  the  trunks  immediately  after  the  meal, 
Madame  made  unblushing  statements  about  her  dis 
like  of  the  man,  and  her  satisfaction  in  the  Elder 
being  at  hand  to  prevent  overcharges,  and  see  to 
the  boxes  being  properly  taken  upstairs. 

Then  Maria  begged  him  to  remain  and  look  at 
her  pretty  things,  and  that  was  exactly  what  he 
wished  to  do;  and  so,  what  with  exhibiting  them, 
and  trying  some  of  them  on,  and  sorting,  and  put 
ting  them  into  drawers  and  wardrobes,  the  after- 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      29 

noon  slipped  quickly  away.  The  Elder  had  his  pipe 
brought  upstairs,  and  he  sat  down  and  smoked  it  on 
the  fine  sofa  Mrs.  Gordon  had  covered  with  her  own 
needlework  when  she  occupied  the  room;  and  no 
one  checked  him  or  made  discouraging  demurs.  He 
had  his  full  share  of  the  happy  hours;  and  he  told 
himself  so  as  the  ladies  were  dressing;  and  he  sat 
waiting  for  Neil,  alone  with  his  pleasant  thoughts 
and  anticipations. 

"Auld  age  has  its  compensations/'  he  reflected. 
"They  wouldna  hae  let  Neil  sit  and  smoke  amid  their 
fallals ;  and  it  was  the  bonniest  sight  to  watch  them, 
to  listen  to  their  Ohs!  and  Ahs!  and  their  selfish 
bits  o'  prattle,  anent  having  what  no  ither  woman 
was  able,  or  likely  to  have.  Women  are  queer  crea 
tures,  but,  Oh,  dear  me,  what  a  weary  world  it  would 
be  without  them!" 

And  when  Maria  came  down  stairs  in  a  scarlet 
gown  over  a  white  silk  petticoat,  a  string  of  gold 
beads  round  her  neck,  and  her  hair  dressed  high  and 
fastened  with  a  gold  comb,  he  was  charmed  afresh. 
He  rose  with  the  gallantry  of  a  young  man,  to  get 
her  a  chair,  but  she  made  him  sit  down  and  brought 
a  stool  to  his  side,  and  nestled  so  close  to  him  that  he 
put  his  arm  across  her  pretty  shoulders.  And  it 
added  greatly  to  his  satisfaction  that  Neil  came  sud 
denly  in,  and  discovered  them  in  this  affectionate 
attitude. 

"One  o'  the  compensations  o'  auld  age,"  he  said  in 
happy  explanation.  "Here  is  your  niece,  Maria 
Semple,  Neil;  and  proud  you  may  be  o'  her!" — and 
Maria  rose,  and  made  her  uncle  a  sweeping  courtesy, 
and  then  offered  him  her  hand  and  her  cheek.  The 


30      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

young  mail  gave  her  a  warm  welcome,  and  yet  at 
the  same  moment  wondered  what  changes  the  little 
lady  would  bring  to  the  house.  For  he  had  sense 
and  experience  enough  to  know  that  a  girl  so  attrac 
tive  would  irresistibly  draw  events  to  her. 

In  two  or  three  days  the  excitement  of  her  advent 
was  of  necessity  put  under  restraint.  Age  loves 
moderation  in  all  things,  and  Maria  began  to  feel  the 
still,  stately  house  less  interesting  than  the  school 
room.  Whigs  and  Tories,  however  unequally,  di 
vided  that  ground,  and  the  two  parties  made  that 
quarrel  the  outlet  for  all  their  more  feminine  dis 
likes.  Her  last  weeks  at  school  had  also  been  weeks 
full  of  girlish  triumphs ;  for  she  was  not  only  receiv 
ing  a  new  wardrobe  of  an  elaborate  kind,  but  she 
was  permitted  to  choose  it ;  to  have  interviews  with 
mantua-makers  and  all  kinds  of  tradespeople;  and 
above  all,  she  was  going  to  New  York.  And  New 
York  at  that  time  was  invested  with  all  the  romance 
of  a  mediaeval  city.  It  was  the  center  around  which 
the  chief  events  of  the  war  revolved.  Within  her 
splendid  mansions  the  officers  of  King  George  feast 
ed,  and  danced,  and  planned  warlike  excursions ;  and 
in  her  harbor  great  fleets  were  anchored  whose  mis 
sion  was  to  subjugate  the  whole  Southern  seaboard. 
This  of  itself  was  an  interesting  situation,  but  how 
much  more  so,  when  Whig  and  Tory  alike  knew, 
that  just  over  the  western  shore  every  hilltop,  and 
every  lofty  tree  held  an  American  sentinel,  while 
Washington  himself,  amid  the  fastnesses  of  New 
Jersey,  watched  with  unerring  sagacity  and  untiring 
patience  the  slightest  military  movement  on  Man 
hattan  Island. 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      31 

Thus,  the  possibilities  and  probabilities  of  her  ex 
pected  change  of  life  had  made  her  the  envy  of  ro 
mantic  girls;  for  all  of  them,  no  matter  what  their 
political  faith,  had  their  own  conception  of  the  great 
things  which  might  be  achieved  in  a  city  full  of  mili 
tary  and  naval  officers.  It  was  the  subject  on  which 
conversation  was  always  interesting,  and  often 
provocative;  thus,  in  the  very  last  talk  she  had  with 
her  schoolmates,  one  little  Tory  maid  said : 

"O,  the  dear  officers!  How  delightful  it  will  be 
to  dance  with  brave  men  so  magnificently  dressed  in 
scarlet  and  gold!  How  I  wish  that  I  was  you, 
Maria !" 

"O,  the  hateful  creatures!"  ejaculated  another 
girl  of  different  opinions.  "I  would  not  dance  a 
step  with  one  of  them ;  but  if  I  did,  I  should  be  say 
ing  to  myself  all  the  time :  very  soon  my  fine  fellow, 
some  brave  man  in  homespun  blue  will  kill  you." 

"If  I  was  Maria,"  said  another,  "and  had  a  Brit 
ish  officer  for  my  servant,  I  would  coax  him  to  tell 
me  what  General  Clinton  was  going  to  do ;  and  then 
I  would  send  word  to  General  Washington." 

"O,  you  mean  girl!"  answered  Maria,  "would 
you  be  a  spy?" 

"Yes,  I  would." 

"And  so  would  I !" 

"And  I !" 

"And  I !" 

"And  I !"  And  then  an  equal  chorus  of  "What 
a  shame !  Just  like  Whigs !" 

Maria  missed  these  encounters.  She  saw  that  her 
grandmother  usually  deprecated  political  conversa 
tion,  and  that  her  uncle  and  grandfather  did  not  in- 


32      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

elude  her  in  the  discussion  of  any  public  event.  On 
the  fourth  day  she  began  to  feel  herself  of  less  im 
portance  than  she  approved;  and  then  there  fol 
lowed  naturally  the  demoralizing  luxury  of  self- 
pity: 

"Because  I  am  a  girl,  and  a  very  young  girl,  no 
one  appears  to  think  I  have  common  sense.  I  am  as 
loyal  to  the  King  as  any  one.  I  wish  grandmother 
would  speak  out.  I  believe  she  is  a  Whig.  Uncle 
Neil  said  he  would  take  me  to  some  entertainments ; 
he  has  not  done  so.  I  am  not  tired — that  is  just  an 
excuse — I  want  to  go  out  and  I  want  to  see  Agnes. 
I  will  not  give  up  Agnes — no  one,  no  one  shall  make 
me — she  is  part  of  my  heart!  No,  I  will  not  give 
up  Agnes;  her  father  may  be  a  saddler — and  a 
Methodist — I  am  above  noticing  such  things.  I 
will  love  who  I  like — about  my  friends  I  will  not 
yield  an  inch — I  will  n6t!" 

She  was  busy  tatting  to  this  quite  unnecessary 
tirade  of  protestations  and  her  grandmother  noticed 
the  passionate  jerk  of  the  shuttle  emphasizing  her 
thoughts.  "What  is  vexing  you,  dearie?"  she 
asked. 

"Oh,  I  am  wretched  about  Agnes,"  she  answered. 
"I  am  afraid  grandfather  has  been  rude  in  some 
way." 

"You  needna  be  afraid  on  that  ground,  Maria; 
your  grandfather  is  never  rude  where  women  are 
concerned." 

"But  he  is  unkind.  If  he  was  not,  there  could  be 
no  objections  to  my  calling  on  Agnes." 

"Is  it  not  her  place  to  call  on  you?  She  is  at 
home — born  and  bred  in  New  York — you  are 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE 


33 


a  stranger  here.  She  is  older  than  you  are;  she 
seems  to  have  assumed  some  kind  of  care  or  over 
sight " 

"She  has  been  my  guardian  angel." 

"Then  I  think  she  ought  to  be  looking  after  a 
desolate  bairn  like  you;  one  would  think  you  had 
neither  kith  nor  kin  near  you,  Maria."  Madame 
spoke  with  an  air  of  offense  or  injury,  and  as  the 
words  were  uttered,  the  door  was  softly  moved  in 
ward,  and  Agnes  Bradley  entered. 

She  courtesied  to  Madame,  and  then  stretched  out 
her  hands  to  Maria.  The  girl  rose  with  a  cry  of 
joy,  and  all  her  discontent  was  gone  in  a  moment. 
Madame  could  not  forget  so  easily;  in  fact,  her 
sense  of  unkindness  was  intensified  by  the  unlooked- 
for  entrance  of  its  cause.  But  there  was  no  escap 
ing  the  influence  of  Agnes.  She  brought  the  very 
atmosphere  of  peace  into  the  room  with  her.  In  ten 
minutes  she  was  sitting  between  Madame  and 
Maria,  and  both  appeared  to  be  alike  happy  in  her 
society.  She  did  not  speak  of  the  war,  or  the  sol 
diers,  or  the  frightful  price  of  food  and  fuel,  or  the 
wicked  extravagance  of  the  Tory  ladies  in  dress  and 
entertainments,  or  even  of  the  unendurable  impu 
dence  of  the  negro  slaves.  She  talked  of  Maria, 
and  of  the  studies  she  ought  to  continue,  and  of 
Madame' s  flowers  and  needlework,  and  a  sweet  feel 
ing  of  rest  from  all  the  fretful  life  around  was  in 
sensibly  diffused.  In  a  short  time  Madame  felt  her 
self  to  be  under  the  same  spell  as  her  granddaughter, 
and  she  looked  at  the  charmer  with  curious  interest ; 
she  wondered  what  kind  of  personality  this  daughter 
of  tranquility  possessed. 


34      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

A  short  scrutiny  showed  her  a  girl  about  nineteen 
years  old,  tall,  but  not  very  slender,  with  a  great  deal 
of  pale  brown  hair  above  a  broad  forehead;  with 
eyebrows  thick  and  finely  arched,  and  eyelids  so 
transparent  from  constant  contact  with  the  soul  that 
they  seemed  to  have  already  become  spiritual.  Her 
eyes  were  dark  grey,  star-like,  mystical,  revealing — 
when  they  slowly  dilated — one  hardly  knew  what  of 
the  unseen  and  heavenly.  Her  face  was  oval  and 
well  shaped,  but  a  little  heavy  except  when  the  warm 
pallor  of  its  complexion  was  suddenly  transfigured 
from  within ;  then  showing  a  faint  rose  color  quick 
ly  passing  away.  Her  movements  were  all  slow, 
but  not  ungraceful,  and  her  soft  voice  had  almost  a 
caress  in  it.  Yet  it  was  not  these  things,  one,  or  all 
of  them,  that  made  her  so  charmful ;  it  was  the  in 
visible  beauty  in  the  visible,  that  delighted. 

Without  question  here  was  a  woman  who  valued 
everything  at  its  eternal  worth ;  who  in  the  midst  of 
war,  sheltered  life  in  the  peace  of  God;  and  in  the 
presence  of  sorrow  was  glad  with  the  gladness  of 
the  angels.  An  hour  with  Agnes  Bradley  made 
Madame  think  more  highly  of  her  granddaughter; 
for  surely  it  was  a  kind  of  virtue  in  Maria  to  love 
the  goodness  she  herself  could  not  attain  unto. 

Nearly  two  hours  passed  quickly  away.  They 
walked  in  the  garden  and  talked  of  seeds,  and 
of  the  green  things  springing  from  them ;  and  down 
at  the  lily  bed  by  the  river,  Madame  had  a  sudden 
memory  of  a  young  girl,  who  had  one  Spring  after 
noon  gone  down  there  to  meet  her  fate ;  and  she  said 
to  Agnes — with  a  note  of  resentment  still  in  her 
voice : 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      35 

"A  lassie  I  once  loved  dearly,  came  here  to  gather 
lilies,  and  to  listen  to  a  lover  she  had  nae  business  to 
listen  to.  She  would  sit  doubtless  on  the  vera  step 
you  are  now  sitting  on,  Maria;  and  she  made  sor 
row  and  suffering  enough  for  more  than  one  good 
heart;  forbye  putting  auld  friends  asunder,  and 
breeding  anger  where  there  had  always  been  love. 
I  hope  you'll  never  do  the  like,  either  o'  you." 

"Who  was  she,  grandmother?" 

"Her  name  was  Katherine  Van  Heemskirk. 
You'll  hae  heard  tell  o'  her,  Miss  Bradley?" 

"I  saw  her  several  times  when  she  was  here  four 
years  ago.  She  is  very  beautiful." 

Madame  did  not  answer,  and  Maria  stepped  lower 
and  gathered  a  few  lilies  that  were  yet  in  bloom, 
though  the  time  of  lilies  was  nearly  over.  But 
Agnes  turned  away  with  Madame,  and  both  of  them 
were  silent;  Madame  because  she  could  not  trust 
herself  to  begin  speech  on  this  subject,  and  Agnes 
because  she  divined,  that  for  some  reason,  silence 
was  in  this  case  better  than  the  fittest  words  that 
could  be  spoken. 

After  a  short  pause,  Agnes  said,  "My  home  is  but 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  here,  and  it  is  already  order 
ly  and  pleasant.  Will  you,  Madame,  kindly  permit 
Maria  to  come  often  to  see  me !  I  will  help  her  with 
her  studies,  and  she  might  take  the  little  boat  at  the 
end  of  your  garden,  and  row  herself  along  the  water 
edge  until  she  touches  the  pier  in  our  garden." 

"She  had  better  walk." 

In  this  way  the  permission  was  granted  without 
reserves  or  conditions.  Madame  had  not  thought 
of  making  any,  and  as  soon  as  she  realized  her  im- 


36      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

plied  approval,  she  was  resolved  to  stand  by  it. 
"The  lassie  requires  young  people  to  consort  wi'," 
she  thought,  "and  better  a  young  lass  than  a  young 
lad;  and  if  her  grandfather  says  contrary,  I  must 
make  him  wiser/' 

With  this  concession  the  visit  ended,  but  the  girls 
went  out  of  the  parlor  together,  and  stood  talking 
for  some  time  in  the  entrance  hall.  The  parting 
moment,  however,  had  to  come,  and  Maria  lifted  her 
lips  to  her  friend,  and  they  were  kissing  each  other 
good-bye,  when  Neil  Semple  and  a  young  officer  in 
the  uniform  of  the  Eighty-fourth  Royal  Highland 
ers  opened  the  door.  The  picture  of  the  two  girls  in 
their  loving  embrace  was  a  momentary  one,  but  it 
was  flooded  with  the  colored  sunshine  pouring  on 
them  from  the  long  window  of  stained  glass,  and  the 
men  saw  and  acknowledged  its  beauty,  with  an  in 
voluntary  exclamation  of  delight.  Maria  sheltered 
herself  in  a  peal  of  laughter,  and  over  the  face  of 
Agnes  there  came  and  went  a  quick  transfiguring 
flush;  but  she  instantly  regained  her  mental  poise, 
and  with  the  composure  of  a  goddess  was  walking 
toward  the  door,  when  Neil  advanced,  and  assum 
ing  the  duty  of  a  host,  walked  with  her  down  the 
flagged  path  to  the  garden  gate.  Maria  and  the 
young  soldier  stood  in  the  doorway  watching  them ; 
and  Madame  at  the  parlor  window  did  the  same 
thing,  with  an  indescribable  amazement  on  her  face. 

"It  isna  believable!"  she  exclaimed.  "Neil  Sem 
ple,  the  vera  proudest  o'  mortals  walking  wi'  auld 
Bradley's  daughter!  his  hat  in  his  hand  too!  and 
bowing  to  her!  bowing  to  his  vera  knee  buckles! 
After  this,  the  Stuarts  may  come  hame  again,  or  any 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      37 

other  impossible  thing  happen.  The  world  is  turn 
ing  tapsalterie,  and  I  wonder  whether  I  am  Janet 
Semple,  or  some  ither  body." 

But  the  world  was  all  right  in  a  few  minutes ;  for 
then  Neil  entered  the  room  with  Maria  and  Captain 
Macpherson,  and  the  mere  sight  of  the  young  High- 
landman  brought  oblivion  of  all  annoyances.  Mad 
ame' s  heart  flew  to  her  head  whenever  she  saw  the 
kilt  and  the  plaid ;  she  hastened  to  greet  its  wearer ; 
she  took  his  plumed  bonnet  from  his  hand,  and  said 
it  was  "just  out  o'  calculation  that  he  should  go 
without  breaking  bread  with  them." 

Captain  Macpherson  had  no  desire  to  go.  He 
had  seen  and  spoken  with  Maria,  and  she  was  worth 
staying  for ;  besides  which,  a  Scot  in  a  strange  land 
feels  at  home  in  a  countryman's  house.  Macpher 
son  quickly  made  himself  so.  He  went  with  Neil  to 
his  room,  and  anon  to  the  garden,  and  finally  loosed 
the  boat  and  rowed  up  the  river,  resting  on  the  oars 
at  the  Bradley  place,  hoping  for  a  glance  at  Agnes. 
But  nothing  was  to  be  seen  save  the  white  house 
among  the  green  trees,  and  the  white  shades  gently 
stirring  in  the  wind.  The  place  was  as  still  as  a 
resting  wheel,  and  the  stillness  infected  the  rowers; 
yet  when  Macpherson  was  in  Semple' s  garden,  the 
merry  ring  of  his  boyish  laughter  reached  Madame 
and  Maria  in  the  house,  and  set  their  hearts  beating 
with  pleasure  as  they  arranged  the  tea-table,  and 
brought  out  little  dishes  of  hoarded  luxuries.  And 
though  Madame' s  chickens  were  worth  three  dollars 
each,  she  unhesitatingly  sacrificed  one  to  a  national 
hero. 

When   the    Elder   came   home   he   was   equally 


j8      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

pleased.  He  loved  young  people,  and  the  boyish 
captain  with  his  restless,  brimming  life,  was  an 
element  that  the  whole  house  responded  to.  His 
heart  had  a  little  quake  at  the  abundance  of  the  meal, 
but  it  was  only  a  momentary  reserve,  and  he  smiled 
as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  motto  carved  around  the 
wooden  bread-plate —  "Spare  Not!  Waste  Not! 
Want  Not!" 

Madame  looked  very  happy  and  handsome  sitting 
before  her  tray  of  pretty  china,  and  the  blended  aro 
mas  of  fine  tea  and  hot  bread,  of  broiled  chicken, 
and  Indian  preserves  and  pickles  were  made  still 
more  appetizing  by  the  soft  wind  blowing  through 
the  open  window,  the  perfume  of  the  lilacs  and  the 
southernwood.  Madame  had  kept  the  place  at  her 
right  hand  for  Macpherson;  and  Maria  sat  next  to 
him  with  her  grandfather  on  her  right  hand,  so  that 
Neil  was  at  his  mother's  left  hand.  Between  the  two 
young  men  the  old  lady  was  radiantly  happy;  for 
Macpherson  was  such  a  guest  as  it  is  a  delight  to 
honor.  He  eat  of  all  Madame  had  prepared  for 
him,  thoroughly  enjoyed  it,  and  frankly  said  so. 
And  his  chatter  about  the  social  entertainments 
given  by  Generals  Clinton  and  Tryon,  Robertson 
and  Ludlow  was  very  pleasant  to  the  ladies.  Neil 
never  had  anything  to  say  about  these  affairs,  except 
that  they  were  "all  alike,  and  all  stupid,  and  all  wick 
edly  extravagant ;"  and  such  criticism  was  too  gen 
eral  to  be  interesting. 

Very  different  was  Macpherson's  description  of 
the  last  ball  at  General  Trvon's;  he  could  tell  all 
its  details — the  reception  of  the  company  with  kettle 
drums  and  trumpets — the  splendid  furniture  of  his 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      39 

residence,  its  tapestries,  carpets,  and  silk  hangings 
— the  music,  the  dancing,  the  feasting — the  fine 
dressing  of  both  men  and  women — all  these  things 
he  described  with  delightful  enthusiasm  and  a  little 
pleasant  mimicry.  And  when  Madame  asked  after 
her  acquaintances,  Macpherson  could  tell  her  what 
poplins  and  lutestrings,  and  lace  and  jewels  they 
wore.  Moreover,  he  knew  what  grand  dames 
crowded  William  Street  in  the  mornings  and  after 
noons,  and  what  merchants  had  the  largest  display 
of  the  fashions  and  luxuries  of  Europe. 

"John  Ambler,"  he  said,  "is  now  showing  a  most 
extraordinary  cargo  of  English  silks  and  laces,  and 
fine  broadcloths,  taken  by  one  of  Dirk  Vandercliffs 
privateers.  Really,  Madame,  the  goods  are  worth 
looking  at.  I  assure  you  our  beauties  lack  nothing 
that  Europe  can  produce." 

"Yes,  there  is  one  thing  the  privateers  canna  fur 
nish  you,  and  that  is  fuel.  You  shivered  all  last 
winter  in  your  splendid  rooms,"  said  the  Elder. 

"True,"  replied  Macpherson.  "The  cold  was 
frightful,  and  though  General  Clinton  issued  one 
proclamation  after  another  to  the  farmers  of  Long 
Island  to  send  in  their  wood,  they  did  not  do  it." 

"Why  should  they?"  asked  Madame. 

"On  the  King's  service,  Madame,"  answered  the 
young  man  with  a  final  air. 

"Vera  good,"  retorted  Madame;  "but  if  the  King 
wanted  my  forest  trees  for  naething,  I  should  say, 
'your  Majesty  has  plenty  o'  soldiers  wi'  little  to  do; 
let  them  go  and  cut  what  they  want.'  They  wouldna 
waste  it  if  they  had  it  to  cut.  But  the  wastrie  in 
everything  is  simply  sinful,  and  I  canna  think  where 


40      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

the  Blacks  and  Vanderlanes,  and  all  the  other  'Vans' 
you  name — and  whom  I  never  heard  tell  of  in  our 
kirk — get  the  money." 

"Privateering !"  said  Macpherson  with  a  gay 
laugh.  "Who  would  not  be  a  roving  privateer?  I 
have  myself  longings  for  the  life.  I  have  thoughts 
of  joining  VanderclifFs  fleet." 

"You  are  just  leeing,  young  man,"  interrupted 
Madame.  "It  would  be  a  thing  impossible.  The 
Macphersons  have  nae  salt  water  in  their  blood. 
Could  you  fling  aw  a'  your  tartans  for  a  sailor's  tarry 
coat  and  breeches?  How  would  you  look  if  you 
did  ?  And  you  would  feel  worse  than  you  looked." 

Macpherson  glanced  at  his  garb  with  a  smile  of 
satisfaction.  "I  am  a  Macpherson,"  he  answered, 
proudly,  "and  I  would  not  change  the  colors  of  my 
regiment  for  a  royal  mantle;  but  privateering  is  no 
small  temptation.  On  the  deck  of  a  privateer  you 
may  pick  up  gold  and  silver." 

"That  is  not  very  far  from  the  truth,"  said  Neil. 
"In  the  first  year  of  the  war  the  rebel  privateers  took 
two  hundred  and  fifty  West  Indiamen,  valued  at 
nearly  two  millions  of  pounds,  and  Mr.  Morris  com 
plained  that  the  Eastern  states  cared  for  nothing  but 
privateering." 

"Weel,  Morris  caught  the  fever  himself,"  said  the 
Elder.  "I  have  been  told  he  made  nearly  four  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  in  the  worst  year  the  rebel 
army  ever  had." 

"Do  the  rebels  call  that  patriotism?"  asked  Mac 
pherson. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Elder,  "from  a  Whig  point 
of  view  it  is  vera  patriotic;  what  do  you  think, 
Neil?" 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      41 

"If  I  was  a  Whig/'  answered  Neil,  "I  should  cer 
tainly  own  privateers.  Without  considering  the 
personal  advantage,  privateering  brings  great  riches 
into  the  country;  it  impoverishes  the  enemy,  and  it 
adds  enormously  to  the  popularity  of  the  war.  The 
men  who  have  hitherto  gone  to  the  Arctic  seas  for 
whales,  find  more  wealthy  and  congenial  work  in 
capturing  English  ships." 

"And  when  men  get  money  by  wholesale  high- 
seas  robbery " 

"Privateering,  Madame,"  corrected  Macpherson. 

"Weel,  weel,  give  it  any  name  you  like — what  I 
want  to  say  is,  that  money  got  easy  goes  easy." 

"In  that,  Madame,  you  are  correct.  While  we 
were  in  Philadelphia  that  city  was  the  scene  of  the 
maddest  luxury.  While  the  rebels  were  begging 
money  from  France  to  feed  their  starving  army  at 
Valley  Forge,  every  kind  of  luxury  and  extrava 
gance  ran  riot  in  Philadelphia.  At  one  entertain 
ment  there  was  eight  hundred  pounds  spent  in  pas 
try  alone." 

"Stop,  Macpherson!"  cried  Madame,  "I  will  not 
hear  tell  o'  such  wickedness,"  and  she  rose  with 
the  words,  and  the  gentlemen  went  into  the  parlor  to 
continue  their  conversation. 

Madame  had  been  pleased  with  her  granddaugh 
ter's  behavior.  She  had  not  tittered,  nor  been  vul 
garly  shy  or  affected,  nor  had  she  intruded  her  opin 
ions  or  feelings  among  those  of  her  elders ;  and  yet 
her  self-possession,  and  her  expressive  face  had  been 
full  of  that  charm  which  showed  her  to  be  an  inter 
ested  and  a  comprehending  listener.  Now,  how 
ever,  Madame  wished  her  to  talk,  and  she  was  an- 


42      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

noyed  when  she  did  not  do  so.  It  was  only  natural 
that  she  should  express  some  interest  in  the  bright 
young  soldier,  and  her  silence  concerning  him  Mad 
ame  regarded  as  assumed  indifference.  At  last  she 
condescended  to  the  leading  question : 

"What  do  you  think  o'  Captain  Macpherson, 
Maria?" 

"I  do  not  know,  grandmother.'7 

"He  is  a  very  handsome  lad.  It  did  my  heart 
good  to  see  his  bright  face." 

"His  face  is  covered  with  freckles." 

"Freckles !  Why  not  ?  He  has  been  brought  up 
in  the  wind  and  the  sunshine,  and  not  in  a  boarding- 
school,  or  a  lady's  parlor." 

"Freckles  are  not  handsome,  however,  grand 
mother." 

Madame  would  not  dally  with  half-admissions, 
and  she  retorted  sharply : 

"Freckles  are  the  handsomest  thing  about  a  man ; 
they  are  only  the  human  sunshine  tint;  the  vera 
same  sunshine  that  colored  the  roses  and  ripened  the 
wheat  gave  the  lad  the  golden-brown  freckles  o' 
rich  young  life.  Freckles !  I  consider  them  an  im 
provement  to  any  one.  If  you  had  a  few  yoursel' 
you  would  be  the  handsomer  for  them." 

"Grandmother!" 

"Yes,  and  your  friend  likewise.  She  has  scarce  a 
mite  o'  color  o'  any  kind ;  a  little  o'  the  human  sun 
shine  tint — the  red  and  gold  on  her  cheeks — and  she 
might  be  better  looking." 

"Better  looking!  Why,  grandmother,  Agnes 
was  the  beauty  of  the  school." 

"Schoolgirls  are  poor  judges  o'  beauty.     She  has 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      43 

a  wonderfu'  pleasant  way  with  her,  but  that  isn't 
beauty." 

"I  thought  you  liked  her,  I  am  so  sorry  and  dis 
appointed." 

"She  is  weel  enough — in  her  way.  There  are 
plenty  o'  girls  not  as  pleasant;  but  she  is  neither 
Venus,  nor  Helen  o'  Troy.  I  was  speaking  o'  Cap 
tain  Macpherson;  when  he  stood  in  the  garden  with 
your  uncle  Neil,  his  hand  on  his  sword  and  the  wind 
blowing  his  golden  hair ' 

"Grandmother!     His  hair  is  red." 

"It  is  naething  o'  the  kind,  Maria.  It  is  a  bonnie 
golden-brown.  It  may,  perhaps,  have  a  cast  o'  red, 
but  only  enough  to  give  it  color.  And  he  has  a 
kindly  handsome  face,  sweet-eyed  and  fearless." 

"I  did  not  notice  his  eyes.  He  seems  fearless, 
and  he  is  certainly  good-tempered.  Have  you 
known  him  a  long  time,  grandmother?" 

"I  never  saw  him  before  this  afternoon,"  the  old 
lady  answered  wearily.  She  had  become  suddenly 
tired.  Maria's  want  of  enthusiasm  chilled  her. 
She  could  not  tell  whether  the  girl  was  sincere  or 
not.  Women  generally  have  two  estimates  of  the 
men  they  meet;  one  which  they  acknowledge,  one 
which  they  keep  to  themselves. 

When  the  gentlemen  returned  to  the  sitting-room 
a  young  negro  was  lighting  the  fire,  and  Macpher 
son  looked  at  him  with  attention.  "A  finely  built 
fellow,"  he  said,  when  the  slave  had  left  the  room ; 
"such  men  ought  to  make  good  fighters."  Then 
turning  to  Madame  he  added,  "Captain  de  Lancey 
lost  four  men,  and  Mr.  Bayard  five  men  last  week. 
They  were  sent  across  the  river  to  cut  wood  and  they 


44      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

managed  to  reach  the  rebel  camp.  We  have  knowl 
edge  that  there  is  a  full  regiment  of  them  there 
now." 

"They  are  fighting  for  their  personal  freedom/' 
said  the  Elder,  "and  who  wouldna  fight  for  that? 
Washington  has  promised  it,  if  they  fight  to  the  end 
o'  the  war." 

"They  have  a  good  record  already,"  said  Mac- 
pherson. 

"I  have  nae  doubt  o'  it,"  answered  the  Elder. 
"Fighting  would  come  easier  than  wood  cutting,  no 
to  speak  o'  the  question  o'  freedom.  I  heard  a 
sough  o'  rumor  about  them  and  the  Hessians ;  true, 
or  not,  I  can't  say." 

"It  is  true.  They  beat  back  the  Hessians  three 
times  in  one  engagement." 

"I'm  glad  o'  it,"  said  Madame,  "slaves  are  good 
enough  to  fight  hired  human  butchers." 

"O,  you  know,  Madame,  the  Hessians  are  mer 
cenaries;  they  make  arms  a  profession."  He  spoke 
with  a  languid  air  of  defense;  the  Hessians  were 
not  of  high  consideration  in  his  opinion,  but  Mad 
ame  answered  with  unusual  warmth : 

"A  profession !  Well,  it  isn't  a  respectable  one  in 
their  hands — men  selling  themselves  to  fight  they 
care  not  whom,  or  for  what  cause.  If  a  man  fights 
for  his  country  he  is  her  soldier  and  her  protector; 
if  he  sells  himself  to  all  and  sundry,  he  is  worth  just 
what  he  sells  himself  for,  and  the  black  slave  fighting 
for  his  freedom  is  a  gentleman  beside  him."  Then, 
before  any  one  could  answer  her  tart  disparagement, 
she  opened  a  little  Indian  box,  and  threw  on  the  table 
a  pack  of  cards. 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      45 

"There's  some  paper  kings  for  you  to  play  wi'," 
she  said,  "and  neither  George  nor  Louis  has  a  title  to 
compare  wi'  them — kings  and  knaves!  Ancient 
tyrants,  and  like  ithers  o'  their  kind,  they  would 
trick  the  warld  awa'  at  every  game  but  for  some 
brave  ace,"  and  the  ace  of  hearts  happening  to  be  in 
her  hand  she  flung  it  defiantly  down  on  the  top  of 
the  pack;  and  that  with  an  air  of  confidence  and 
triumph  that  was  very  remarkable. 

With  the  help  of  these  royalties  and  some  desul 
tory  conversation  on  the  recent  alliance  of  France 
with  the  rebels,  the  evening  passed  away.  Madame 
sat  quiet  in  the  glow  of  the  fire,  and  Maria,  as  Neil's 
partner,  enlivened  the  game  with  many  bewitching 
airs  and  graces  she  had  not  known  she  possessed, 
until  this  opportunity  called  them  forth.  And  what 
ever  Macpherson  gained  at  cards  he  lost  in  another 
direction;  for  the  little  schoolgirl,  he  had  at  first 
believed  himself  to  be  patronizing,  reversed  the  situ 
ation.  He  became  embarrassed  by  a  realization  of 
her  beauty  and  cleverness;  and  the  sweet  old  story 
began  to  tell  itself  in  his  heart — the  story  that  comes 
no  one  knows  whence,  and  commences  no  one  knows 
how.  In  that  hour  of  winning  and  losing  he  first 
understood  how  charming  Maria  Semple  was. 

The  new  feeling  troubled  him;  he  wished  to  be 
alone  with  it,  and  the  ardent  pleasure  of  his  arrival 
had  cooled.  The  Elder  and  his  wife  were  tired,  and 
Neil  seemed  preoccupied  and  did  not  exert  himself 
to  restore  the  tone  of  the  earlier  hours ;  so  the  young 
officer  felt  it  best  to  make  his  adieu.  Then,  the 
farewell  in  a  measure  renewed  the  joy  of  meeting; 
he  was  asked  to  come  again,  "to  come  whenever  he 


46      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

wanted  to  come/'  said  Madame,  with  a  smile  of 
motherly  kindness.  And  when  Maria,  with  a  down 
ward  and  upward  glance  laid  her  little  hand  in  his, 
that  incident  made  the  moment  wonderful,  and  he 
felt  that  not  to  come  again  would  be  a  great  mis 
fortune. 

Maria  was  going  to  her  room  soon  afterward  but 
Neil  detained  her.  "Can  you  sit  with  me  a  little 
while,  Maria?"  he  asked;  "or  are  you  also  sleepy?" 

"I  am  not  the  least  weary,  uncle;  and  I  never  was 
wider  awake  in  my  life.  I  will  read  to  you  or  copy 
for  you " 

"Come  and  talk  to  me.  The  fire  still  burns.  It 
is  a  pity  to  leave  its  warmth.  Sit  down  here.  I 
have  never  had  a  conversation  with  you.  I  do  not 
know  my  niece  yet,  and  I  want  to  know  her." 

Maria  was  much  flattered.  Neil's  voice  had  a 
tone  in  it  that  she  had  never  before  heard.  He 
brought  her  a  shawl  to  throw  around  her  shoulders, 
a  footstool  for  her  feet,  and  drawing  a  small  sofa 
before  the  fire,  seated  himself  by  her  side.  Then  he 
talked  with  her  about  her  early  life;  about  her  fa 
ther  and  mother,  and  Mrs.  Charlton,  and  without 
asking  one  question  about  Agnes  Bradley  led  her  so 
naturally  to  the  subject,  and  so  completely  round 
and  through  it,  that  he  had  learned  in  an  hour  all 
Maria  could  tell  concerning  the  girl  whose  presence 
and  appearance  had  that  day  so  powerfully  attracted 
him.  He  was  annoyed  when  he  heard  her  name, 
and  annoyed  at  her  pronounced  Methodism,  which 
was  evidently  of  that  early  type,  holding  it  a  sin 
not  to  glory  in  the  scorn  of  those  who  derided  it. 
Yet  he  could  not  help  being  touched  by  Maria's 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      47 

enthusiastic  description  of  the  girl's  sweet  god 
liness. 

"You  know,  uncle,"  she  said,  "  Agnes' s  religion  is 
not  put  on ;  it  is  part  of  Agnes ;  it  is  Agnes.  Girls 
find  one  another  out,  but  all  the  girls  loved  Agnes. 
We  were  ashamed  to  be  ill-natured,  or  tell  untruths, 
or  do  mean  things  when  she  was  there.  And  if  you 
heard  her  sing,  uncle,  you  would  feel  as  if  the  heav 
ens  had  opened,  and  you  could  see  angels." 

Now  there  is  no  man  living  who  does  not  at  some 
time  dream  of  a  good  woman — a  woman  much  bet 
ter  than  himself — upon  his  hearthstone.  Neil  felt 
in  that  hour  this  divine  longing;  and  he  knew  also, 
that  the  thing  had  befallen  him  which  he  had  vowed 
never  would  befall  him  again.  Without  resistance, 
without  the  desire  to  resist,  he  had  let  the  vision  of 
Agnes  Bradley  fill  his  imagination;  he  had  wel 
comed  it,  and  he  knew  that  it  would  subjugate  his 
heart — that  it  had  already  virtually  done  so.  For 
Maria's  descriptions  of  the  pretty  trivialities  of  their 
school  life  was  music  and  wine  to  his  soul.  He  was 
captivated  by  her  innocent  revelations,  and  the  tall 
girl  with  her  saintly  pallor  and  star-like  eyes  was  in 
visibly  present  to  him.  He  had  the  visionary  sense, 
the  glory  and  the  dream  of  love,  and  he  longed  to 
realize  this  vision.  Therefore  he  was  delighted 
when  he  heard  that  Maria  had  permission  to  con 
tinue  her  studies  under  the  direction  of  her  friend. 
It  was  an  open  door  to  him. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Maria  made  her  final 
admission :  "I  am  obliged  to  tell  you,  uncle,  that  I 
am  sure  Agnes  is  a  Whig."  This  damaging  item  in 
her  idol's  character  Maria  brought  out  with  depre- 


48      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

eating  apologies  and  likelihood  of  change,  "not  a 
bad  Whig,  uncle;  she  is  so  gentle,  and  she  hates 
war,  and  so  she  feels  so  sorry  for  the  poor  Ameri 
cans  who  are  suffering  so  much,  because,  you  know, 
they  think  they  are  right.  Then  her  father  is  a 
Tory,  and  she  is  very  fond  of  her  father,  and  very 
proud  of  him,  and  she  will  now  be  under  his  influ 
ence,  and  of  course  do  what  he  tells  her — only — 
only " 

"Only  what,  Maria?  You  think  there  is  a  diffi 
culty;  what  is  it?" 

"Her  lover.     I  am  almost  certain  he  is  a  rebel." 

"Has  she  a  lover?  She  is  very  young — you  must 
be  mistaken?"  He  spoke  so  sharply  Maria  hardly 
knew  his  voice,  and  she  considered  it  best  to  hesitate 
a  little,  so  she  answered  in  a  dubious  manner : 

"I  suppose  he  is  her  lover.  The  girls  all  thought 
so.  He  sent  her  letters,  and  he  sometimes  came  to 
see  her ;  and  then  she  seemed  so  happy." 

"A  young  man?" 

"Yes,  a  very  young  man." 

"A  soldier?"' 

"I  think,  more  likely,  he  was  a  sailor.  I  never 
asked  Agnes.  You  could  not  ask  Agnes  things,  as 
you  did  other  girls." 

"I  understand  that." 

"He  wore  plain  clothes,  but  all  of  us  were  sure  he 
was  a  sailor;  and  once  we  saw  Agnes  watching 
some  ships  as  far  as  she  could  see  them,  and  he  had 
called  on  her  that  day." 

Neil  did  not  answer  her  conjecture.  He  rose  and 
stood  silently  on  the  hearth,  his  dark  eyes  directed 
outward,  as  if  he  was  calling  up  the  vision  of  the 


THE  FAIR  AND  THE  BRAVE      49 

sea,  and  the  ships  and  the  girl  watching  them.  For 
the  first  time  Maria  realized  the  personal  attractive 
ness  of  her  uncle.  "He  is  not  old/'  she  thought, 
"and  he  is  handsomer  than  any  one  I  ever  saw. 
Why  has  he  not  got  married  before  this?"  And  as 
she  speculated  on  this  question,  Neil  let  his  eyes  fall 
upon  the  dead  fire  and  in  a  melancholy  voice  said : 

"Maria,  my  dear,  it  is  very  late.  I  did  not  re 
member — -you  have  given  me  two  pleasant  hours. 
Good-night,  child." 

He  spoke  with  restraint,  coldly  and  wearily.  He 
was  not  aware  of  it,  for  his  mind  was  full  of 
thoughts  well-nigh  unspeakable,  and  Maria  felt  their 
influence,  though  they  had  not  been  named.  She 
went  away  depressed  and  silent,  like  one  who  has 
suddenly  discovered  they  were  no  longer  desired. 

Neil  speedily  put  out  the  lights,  and  went  to  the 
solitude  his  heart  craved.  He  was  not  happy;  but 
doubt  and  fear  and  love's  first  food.  For  another 
hour  he  sat  motionless,  wondering  how  this  woman, 
whom  he  had  not  in  any  way  summoned,  had  taken 
such  possession  of  him.  For  not  yet  had  it  been 
revealed  to  him,  that  "love  is  always  a  great  invisible 
presence,"  and  that  in  his  case,  Agnes  Bradley  was 
but  its  material  revelation. 


CHAPTER    III. 

LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY. 

AT  this  time  in  New  York,  John  Bradley  was  a 
man  of  considerable  importance.  He  was  not  only 
a  native  of  the  city,  but  many  generations  of  Brad- 
leys  had  been  born,  and  lived,  and  died  in  the  wide, 
low  house  close  to  the  river  bank,  not  far  north  of 
old  Trinity.  They  were  originally  a  Yorkshire  fam 
ily  who  had  followed  the  great  Oliver  Cromwell 
from  Marston  Moor  to  Worcester,  and  who,  having 
helped  to  build  the  Commonwealth  of  England,  re 
fused  to  accept  the  return  of  royalty.  Even  before 
Charles  the  Second  assumed  the  crown,  Ezra  Brad 
ley  and  his  six  sons  had  landed  in  New  York.  They 
were  not  rich,  but  they  had  gold  sufficient  to  build  a 
home,  and  to  open  near  the  fort  a  shop  for  the  mak 
ing  and  repairing  of  saddlery. 

Ever  since  that  time  this  trade  had  been  the  dis 
tinctive  occupation  of  the  family,  and  the  John  Brad 
ley  who  represented  it  in  the  year  1779,  had  both  an 
inherited  and  a  trained  capability  in  the  craft.  No 
one  in  all  America  could  make  a  saddle  comparable 
with  Bradley's;  the  trees  were  of  his  own  designing, 
and  the  leather  work  unequalled  in  strength  and 
beauty.  In  addition  to  this  important  faculty,  he 
was  a  veterinary  surgeon  of  great  skill,  and  possessed 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      51 

some  occult  way  of  managing  ungovernable  horses, 
which  commended  itself  peculiarly  to  officers  whose 
mounts  were  to  be  renewed  frequently  from  any 
available  source.  And  never  had  his  business  been 
so  lucrative  as  at  the  present  date,  for  New  York 
was  full  of  mounted  military  during  the  whole 
period  of  the  war,  and  enormous  prices  wrere  willing 
ly  paid  for  the  fine  saddlery  turned  out  of  the  work 
shop  of  John  Bradley. 

Contrary  to  all  the  traditions  of  his  family,  he 
had  positively  taken  the  part  of  the  King,  and  at 
the  very  commencement  of  the  national  quarrel  had 
shown  the  red  ribbon  of  loyalty  to  England.  His 
wife  dying  at  this  time,  he  sent  his  daughter  to  a 
famous  boarding-school  in  Boston,  and  his  son  to 
the  great  dissenting  academy  in  Gloucester,  Eng 
land;  then  he  closed  his  house  and  lived  solitarily 
in  very  humble  fashion  above  his  workroom  and 
shop.  In  this  way,  he  believed  himself  to  have  pro 
vided  for  the  absolute  safety  of  his  two  children; 
the  boy  was  out  of  the  war  circle;  the  thundering 
drum  and  screaming  fife  could  not  reach  him  in  the 
cloistered  rooms  of  the  Doddridge  School;  and  as 
for  Agnes,  Mrs.  Charlton's  house  was  as  secure  as  a 
convent;  he  had  no  fear  that  either  English  or 
American  soldiers  would  molest  a  dwelling  full  of 
schoolgirls.  And  John  Bradley  could  keep  the 
door  of  his  mouth ;  and  he  believed  that  a  man  who 
could  do  that  might  pursue  a  trade  so  necessary  as 
his,  with  an  almost  certain  degree  of  safety. 

In  appearance  he  was  a  short,  powerful-looking 
man  with  tranquil,  meditating  eyes  and  a  great  tal 
ent  for  silence;  an  armed  soul  dwelling  in  a  strong 


52      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

body.  Some  minds  reflect,  shift,  argue,  and  are  like 
the  surface  of  a  lake;  but  John  Bradley's  mind  was 
like  stubborn  clay ;  when  once  impressed  it  was  sure 
to  harden  and  preserve  the  imprint  through  his  life, 
and  perhaps  the  other  one.  His  Methodism  was 
of  this  character,  and  he  never  shirked  conversa 
tion  on  this  subject;  he  was  as  ready  to  tell  his  ex 
perience  to  General  Howe  or  General  Clinton  as  to 
the  members  of  his  own  class  meeting;  for  his 
heart  was  saturated  with  the  energy  of  his  faith ;  he 
had  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence 
of  things  not  seen. 

On  politics  he  would  not  talk;  he  said,  "public 
affairs  were  in  wiser  hands  than  his,  and  that  to 
serve  God  and  be  diligent  in  business,  was  the 
length  and  breadth  of  his  commission."  His  shop 
was  a  place  where  many  men  and  many  minds  met, 
and  angry  words  were  frequently  thrown  backward 
and  forward  there;  yet  his  needle  never  paused  an 
instant  for  them.  Only  once  had  he  been  known  to 
interfere ;  it  was  on  a  day  when  one  of  De  Lancey's 
troop  drew  his  sword  against  a  boyish  English  en 
sign  almost  at  his  side.  He  stopped  them  with  his 
thread  half  drawn  out,  and  said  sternly : 

"If  you  two  fools  are  in  a  hurry  for  death,  and  the 
judgment  after  death,  there  are  more  likely  places 
to  kill  each  other  than  my  shop,"  and  the  words  were 
cold  as  ice  and  sharp  as  steel,  and  the  men  went  out 
rebuked  and  checked,  and  washed  away  their  hot 
temper  in  wine  instead  of  blood.  For  the  vision  of 
death,  and  the  judgment  after  death,  which  Brad- 
ley's  words  and  manner  had  evoked,  was  not  to  be 
faced  at  that  hour.  Yet,  withal,  Bradley  was  rather 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY 


53 


a  common-looking  man,  ill-mannered  and  rough  as 
hemp  to  the  generality ;  but  not  so  where  childhood 
or  calamity  appealed  to  his  strength  or  forbear 
ance.  In  other  respects,  General  Howe  had,  not  in 
aptly,  described  him  as  "very  unlike  other  men  when 
at  chapel,  but  not  much  so,  when  among  horses  in 
the  stable,  or  selling  saddles  in  the  shop." 

This  was  the  man  who  came  up  from  the  water 
side  early  one  morning  in  the  beginning  of  July, 
singing  Dr.  Watts'  lyrical  dream  of  heaven : 

"There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign." 

His  voice  was  strong  and  melodious,  and  it  was 
evident  that  Agnes  had  inherited  her  charming  vocal 
power  from  him.  He  did  not  cease  as  he  entered 
the  house,  but  continued  his  hymn  until  he  was  in 
the  little  sitting-room,  and  Agnes  finished  the  verse 
with  him : 

"And  see  the  Canaan  that  we  love, 
With  unbeclouded  eyes." 

He  sat  down  to  breakfast  with  the  heavenly  vision 
in  his  heart,  and  reluctantly  let  it  pass  away.  But 
his  spiritual  nature  had  hands  as  well  as  wings,  and 
he  felt  also  the  stress  of  the  daily  labor  waiting  him. 

"The  expedition  leaves  for  the  Connecticut  coast 
to-day,"  he  said.  "General  Clinton  is  determined 
to  strike  a  blow  at  the  people  in  New  Haven,  and 
Fairfield,  and  New  London." 

"Well,  father  ?     What  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"I  say  it  is  better  they  should  be  struck  down  than 
that  they  should  lie  down." 

"Matthews  has  but  just  returned  from  ravaging 


54      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

the  river  counties  of  Virginia,  and  Clinton  from 
Stony  Point.  Have  they  not  made  misery  enough 
for  a  little  while  ?  Who  is  going  with  the  Connecti 
cut  expedition?'' 

"Tryon,  and  he  goes  to  do  mischief  with  the  joy 
of  an  ape." 

"I  heard  trumpets  sounding  and  men  mustering, 
as  I  was  dressing  myself." 

"Trumpets  may  sound,  and  not  to  victory,  Agnes. 
Fire  and  pillage  are  cowardly  arms ;  but  I  heard 
Tryon  say,  any  stick  was  good  enough  to  beat  a  dog 
with,  and  all  who  differ  from  Tryon  are  dogs.  Vile 
work !  Vile  work !  And  yet  all  this  does  not  keep 
New  York  from  dancing  and  drinking,  and  racing, 
and  gambling,  and  trading;  nor  yet  New  York 
women  from  painting  and  dressing  themselves  as  if 
there  were  no  such  persons  as  King  George  and 
George  Washington." 

"Yes,  father,  a  great  many  of  our  best  families 
are  very  poor." 

"Those  not  employed  by  the  government,  or  those 
who  are  not  contractors  or  privateers,  are  whipped 
and  driven  to  the  last  pinch  by  poverty.  Ah,  Agnes, 
remember  New  York  before  this  war  began,  its 
sunny  streets  shaded  with  trees,  and  its  busy,  happy 
citizens  talking,  laughing,  smoking,  trading,  loving 
and  living  through  every  sense  they  had  at  the  same 
time.  Now  there  is  nothing  but  covert  ill-will  and 
suspicion.  Our  violent  passions  have  not  cured  our 
mean  ones ;  to  the  common  list  of  rogueries,  we  have 
only  added  those  of  contractors  and  commissioners." 

"I  think  war  is  the  most  terrible  calamity  that 
can  befall  a  people,  father." 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      55 

'The  despair  of  subjugated  souls  would  be 
worse." 

"Do  they  never  doubt  you,  father?" 

"Howe  never  did.  That  amiable,  indolent  officer 
might  have  liked  me  all  the  more  if  he  had  doubted 
me.  Clinton  is  a  different  man ;  and  I  think  he  may 
have  thought  my  loyalty  to  royalty  lukewarm,  for 
he  sent  for  me  on  the  King's  birthday,  and  after 
some  talk  about  a  horse  and  saddle,  he  said,  "Mr. 
Bradley,  it  is  the  King's  birthday;  shall  we  drink 
his  Majesty's  health?'  And  I  answered  him,  'if  it 
please  you,  General.'  So  he  filled  a  glass  with  Por 
tugal  wine  for  me,  and  then  filling  one  for  himself 
raised  it,  and  waited  for  me  to  speak.  There  were 
several  officers  present,  and  I  lifted  my  glass  and 
said,  To  King  George  the  Third!  God  bless  him, 
and  make  him  and  all  his  officers  good  John  Wesley 
Methodists !' ' 

"Then,  father?" 

"Clinton  put  down  his  glass  with  a  ringing  guf 
faw,  and  the  rest  followed  him.  Only  one  bit  of  a 
beardless  boy  spoke,  and  he  said :  'you  think,  Brad 
ley,  Methodism  might  make  his  Majesty  a  better 
king?'  And  I  answered,  'I  am  not  here  to  judge 
his  Majesty's  kingship.  I  think  it  would  make  him 
and  all  present,  better  and  happier  men.'  I  did  not 
try  to  go  away  or  shirk  questions ;  I  looked  squarely 
in  their  faces  until  General  Clinton  said,  'Very  good, 
Bradley.  You  will  remember  Saladin  and  the  new 
saddle  for  him' ;  and  I  answered,  'I  will  see  to  it  at 
once,  General.'  So  I  went  out  then,  and  I  think 
they  were  not  all  sure  of  me;  but  they  cannot  do 
without  me,  and  they  know  it  is  better  to  put  their 


56      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

doubts  out  of  inquiry.  Wise  men  obey  necessity, 
and  that  is  true  for  them  as  well  as  for  me.  Agnes, 
I  want  to  know  something  about  that  little  girl  of 
Semple's?  I  don't  like  her  coming  here  day  after 
day.  She  will  be  seeing  or  hearing  something  she 
ought  not  to  see  or  hear.  Women  are  dangerous  in 
politics,  for,  as  a  rule,  politics  either  find  or  leave 
them  vixens." 

"Maria  is  to  be  trusted." 

"You  can  not  be  sure.  She  is  passionate,  and 
though  a  woman  in  a  temper  may  not  intend  to  burn 
any  one,  she  pokes  the  fire  and  makes  a  blaze  and  sets 
others  looking  and  wondering.  I  can  tell  you  of 
many  such  women  in  New  York;  they  think  ill  of 
their  neighbor,  and  the  thoughts  get  to  their  tongues, 
and  before  they  know  the  mischief  is  done.  Then, 
like  the  wolf  in  the  fable,  they  thank  God  they  are 
not  ferocious.  Oh,  no !  They  have  only  loosed  the 
dogs  of  war  and  left  others  to  set  them  worrying." 

"How  you  do  run  on,  father !  And  not  one  word 
you  have  said  fits  the  little  Maria,  no,  nor  any  one  of 
the  Semples.  Indeed,  I  am  sure  Madame  is  as  true 
a  patriot  as  you  could  find  anywhere." 

"The  old  man  is  as  bitter  a  royalist  as  I  could  find 
anywhere." 

"He  is,  however,  a  good  old  man.  Last  Monday 
night,  when  you  had  to  go  to  the  leaders'  meeting, 
I  walked  home  with  Maria  and  stayed  to  tea  there. 
And  after  tea  Madame  asked  me  to  sing  a  hymn,  and 
I  sang  the  one  you  were  singing  this  morning,  and 
when  I  had  finished,  the  Elder  said,  'Now,  then,  we 
will  supplement  Isaac  Watts  with  the  Apostle  John' ; 
and  he  opened  the  Bible  and  read  aloud  John's  vision 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      57 

of  'the  land  of  pure  delight'  from  the  twenty-first 
of  Revelation;  then  standing  up,  he  asked  us  all  to 
join  in  the  prayer  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  And 
we  stood  up  with  him  and  said  to  'Our  Father  which 
is  in  heaven,'  the  words  he  taught  us.  I  felt  it  to  be 
a  very  precious  few  minutes." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  against  such  experiences, 
Agnes.  If  people  would  stick  to  what  Christ  says, 
there  might  be  only  one  creed  and  one  church ;  it  is 
Peter  and  Paul  that  make  disputing.  But  if  you 
go  to  Sample's  house  do  not  stop  after  sunset. 
There  are  bad  men  about." 

"Mr.  Neil  Semple  walked  home  with  me." 

"Oh!  Mr.  Neil  Semple!  And  what  had  he  to 
say?" 

"Very  little.  He  praised  my  singing,  he  said  it 
went  to  his  heart ;  and  he  spoke  about  the  moon,  and 
the  perfume  of  the  locust  flowers.  I  think  that  was 
all." 

"The  moon  and  the  locust  flowers!  What  does 
Mr.  Neil  Semple  know  about  the  moon  and  the  lo 
cust  flowers?  And  he  spoke  very  little!  He  can 
talk  fast  enough  when  he  is  in  court,  and  well  paid 
for  it.  He  is  a  proud  man — ill-tempered,  too,  I 
should  think." 

"I  am  sure  he  is  not  ill-tempered.  He  is  as  sweet 
as  a  child  to  his  father  and  mother ;  and  Maria  says 
many  pleasant  things  about  him." 

"Let  him  pass  for  what  he  is  worth;  but  remem 
ber  always  this  thing,  Agnes,  I  am  trusting  my  life 
in  your  hands.  If  you  inadvertently  repeated  even 
what  I  have  said  this  morning,  I  should  be  hard  put 
to  answer  it." 


58      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

"You  know  well  that  I  would  die  rather  than  re 
veal  anything  you  said  to  me.  My  life  for  yours, 
father!" 

"I  trust  you  as  my  own  soul.  You  are  an  inex 
pressible  comfort  to  me.  I  can  speak  to  you.  I 
can  open  my  heart  to  you.  I  can  get  relief  and  sym 
pathy  from  you.  Your  coming  home  makes  me  a 
hundred-fold  safer.  If  your  brother  with  his  hot 
temper  and  young  imprudences  had  been  here,  no  one 
knows  what  would  have  happened  before  this.  I 
thank  God  continually  that  he  is  so  far  out  of  the 
way.  Has  he  left  school  yet?" 

"School  does  not  close  until  June." 

"Then  he  will  go  directly  to  Doctor  Brudenel  in 
London  ?" 

"That  was  your  instruction  to  him." 

"When  did  you  have  a  letter  from  him?" 

"It  is  nearly  a  month  since." 

"When  will  you  write  to  him  next?" 

"I  write  to  him  every  opportunity  I  have." 

"Does  he  need  money  ?  Young  men  are  often  ex 
travagant." 

"He  has  never  named  money  to  me.  He  is  well 
and  happy." 

"Tell  him  he  must  not  come  home,  not  think  of 
coming  home  till  I  give  him  permission.  Tell  him 
that  his  being  away  from  home  is  my  great  comfort. 
Make  that  plain  to  him,  Agnes,  my  great  comfort. 
Tell  him  he  must  stay  in  London  till  a  man  can 
speak  his  mind  safely  in  New  York,  whatever  his 
mind  may  be." 

"I  will  tell  him  all,  father." 

Then  Bradley  went  to  his  shop  and  his  daughter 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      59 

sat  down  to  consider  with  herself.  Many  persons 
stimulate  or  regulate  thought  in  movement  and  find 
a  positive  assistance  to  their  mental  powers  in  action 
of  some  kind,  but  Agnes  had  the  reverse  of  this  tem 
perament.  She  needed  quiet,  so  closing  the  door 
of  her  room  she  sat  still,  recalling,  reviewing,  and 
doing  her  best  to  anticipate  events.  There  were 
certain  things  which  must  be  revealed  to  Maria, 
wholly,  or  in  part,  if  she  continued  to  visit  the  house, 
and  Agnes  saw  not  how  to  prevent  those  visits. 
Nor  did  she  wish  to  prevent  them ;  she  loved  Maria 
and  delighted  in  her  companionship.  They  had 
many  acquaintances  and  events  in  common  to  talk 
about,  and  she  was  also  interested  in  Maria's  life, 
which  was  very  different  to  her  own.  She  felt,  too, 
that  her  influence  was  necessary  and  valuable  to  the 
young  girl,  suddenly  thrown  into  the  midst  of  what 
Agnes  regarded  as  sinful  and  dangerous  society. 
And  then  into  this  process  of  self-examination  there 
drifted  another  form — the  stately,  rather  sombre, 
but  altogether  kindly  personality  of  Neil  Semple. 
It  was  linked  with  Maria,  she  could  not  separate  the 
two;  and  as  intrusion  involved  some  heart-search 
ing  she  was  not  inclined  to,  she  rather  promptly  de 
cided  the  question  without  any  further  prudential 
considerations,  and  as  she  did  so  Maria  called  her. 

She  answered  the  call  gladly.  It  was  to  her 
one  of  those  leadings  on  which  she  spiritually  relied, 
and  her  face  was  beaming  with  love  and  pleasure  as 
she  went  down  stairs  to  her  friend.  Maria  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  small  parlor,  most 
beautifully  arrayed  in  an  Indian  muslin,  white  as 
snow  and  lustrously  fine,  as  only  Dacca  looms  could 


60     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

weave  it.  Her  shoulders  were  covered  with  a  little 
cape  of  the  same  material,  ruffled  and  laced  and  fas 
tened  with  pink  ribbons,  and  on  her  head  was  a  be 
witching  gypsy  hat  tied  under  her  chin  with  bows 
of  the  same  color.  Her  uncle  stood  at  her  side, 
smiling  with  grave  tolerance  at  her  girlish  pride  in 
her  dress,  and  the  pretty  airs  with  which  she  exhib 
ited  it  to  Agnes. 

"Am  I  not  handsome?"  she  cried.  "Am  I  not 
dressed  in  the  most  perfect  taste  ?  Why  do  you  not 
say  as  Miss  Robinson  is  sure  to  say — 'La,  child,  you 
are  adorable !'  ' 

Agnes  fell  quite  naturally  into  her  friend's  excited 
mood,  and  in  the  happiest  tone  of  admiring  mimicry, 
repeated  the  words  dictated.  She  made  the  most 
perfect  contrast  to  Maria;  her  pale  blue  gown  of 
simple  material  and  simple  fashion  was  without  or 
nament  of  any  kind,  except  its  large  falling  collar  of 
white  muslin  embroidery;  but  the  long,  unbroken 
line  of  the  skirt  seemed  to  Neil  Semple  the  most  fit 
ting,  the  only  fitting,  garment  he  had  ever  seen  on 
any  woman. 

"Its  modesty  and  simplicity  is  an  instinct,"  he 
thought;  "and  I  have  this  morning  seen  a  woman 
clothed  by  her  raiment.  Now  I  understand  the  dif 
ference  between  being  dressed  and  clothed.  Maria 
is  dressed,  Agnes  is  clothed;  her  garments  inter 
pret  her." 

He  was  lifted  up  by  his  love  for  her;  and  her 
calico  gown  became  a  royal  robe  in  his  imagina 
tion.  Every  time  he  saw  her  she  appeared  to  have 
been  adorned  for  that  time  only.  It  was  a  delight 
ful  thing  for  him  to  wratch  her  tenderness  and  pride 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      61 

in  Maria.  It  was  motherly  and  sisterly,  and  with 
out  a  thought  of  envy,  and  he  trembled  with  delight 
when  she  turned  her  sweet,  affectionate  face  to  his 
for  sympathy  in  it.  And  really  this  morning  Agnes 
might  reasonably  have  given  some  of  her  admiring 
interest  to  Maria's  escort.  He  was  undeniably 
handsome.  His  suit  of  fine,  dark  cloth,  his  spotless 
lawn  ruffles,  his  long,  light  sword,  his  black  beaver 
in  his  hand,  were  but  fitting  adjuncts  to  a  noble  face, 
graven  with  many  experiences  and  alight  with  the 
tender  glow  of  love  and  the  steady  fire  of  intellec 
tual  power  and  purpose. 

He  did  not  stay  at  this  time  many  minutes,  but 
the  girls  watched  him  to  the  garden  gate  and 
shared  the  courtly  salute  of  his  adieu  there.  "Is  he 
not  the  most  graceful  and  beautiful  of  men?"  asked 
Maria. 

"Indeed  he  is  very  handsome,"  replied  Agnes. 

"There  is  not  an  officer  in  New  York  fit  to  latch 
his  shoe  buckles." 

"Then  why  do  you  dress  so  splendidly,  only  to 
show  yourself  to  them?" 

"Well,  Agnes,  see  how  they  dress.  As  we  were 
coming  here  we  met  men  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rain 
bow  ;  they  were  rattling  swords  and  spurs,  and  toss 
ing  their  heads  like  war  horses  scenting  the  battle 
afar  off." 

"You  are  quoting  the  Bible,  Maria." 

"Uncle  did  it  first.  You  don't  suppose  I  thought 
of  that.  We  passed  a  regiment  of  Hessians  with 
their  towering  brass-fronted  helmets,  their  yellow 
breeches,  and  black  gaiters;  really,  Agnes,  they 
were  grand-looking  men." 


6i      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Very,"  answered  Agnes,  scornfully.  "I  have 
seen  them  standing  like  automatons,  taking  both 
the  commands  and  the  canes  of  their  officers.  Very 
grand-looking  indeed!" 

"You  need  not  be  angry  at  the  poor  fellows.  It 
must  be  very  disagreeable  for  them  to  be  caned  in 
public  and  not  dare  to  move  an  eyelash  or  utter  a 
word  of  protest." 

"Men  that  will  suffer  such  things  are  no  better 
than  the  beasts  of  the  field;  not  as  good,  for  the 
beasts  do  speak  in  their  way  with  hoofs,  or  horns,  or 
teeth,  or  claws,  and  that  to  some  purpose,  when  their 
sense  of  justice  is  outraged." 

"It  is  all  military  discipline,  you  know,  Agnes. 
And  you  must  allow,  the  regiments  make  fine  ap 
pearances.  I  dare  say  these  Hessians  have  to  be 
caned — most  men  have,  in  one  way  or  another. 
Uncle  is  coming  back  for  me  this  afternoon.  We 
are  going  to  see  the  troops  leaving;  it  will  be  a  fine 
sight.  I  told  uncle  you  might  like  to  go  with  us, 
and  he  said  he  would  ask  you,  but  he  did  not." 

"He  had  more  grace  granted  him,  Maria." 

"I  think  he  is  a  little  afraid  of  you,  Agnes." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  He  had  sense  enough  to 
understand  I  would  not  go."  Then,  without  fur 
ther  thought  or  preliminary  she  said :  "Sit  down 
here  beside  me,  Maria,  I  have  something  very  im 
portant  to  say  to  you.  I  know  that  I  can  perfectly 
trust  you,  but  I  want  to  hear  you  tell  me  so.  Can 
you  keep  a  secret  inviolate  and  sure,  Maria?" 

"If  the  secret  is  yours,  Agnes,  neither  in  life  nor 
in  the  hour  of  death  would  I  tell  it." 

"If  you  were  questioned " 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      63 

"I  should  be  stupid  and  dumb;  if  it  was  your  se 
cret,  fire  could  not  burn  it  out  of  me." 

"I  believe  you.  Many  times  in  Boston  you  must 
have  known  that  a  young  man  called  on  me.  You 
may  have  seen  his  face." 

"None  of  the  girls  saw  his  face  but  Sally  Laws; 
we  all  knew  that  he  called  on  you.  I  should  recog 
nize  his  figure  and  his  walk  anywhere,  but  his  face 
I  never  saw.  Sally  said  he  was  as  handsome  as 
Apollo." 

"Such  nonsense!  He  has  an  open,  bright,  strong 
countenance,  but  there  is  nothing  Greek  about  him, 
nothing  at  all.  He  is  an  American,  and  he  loves  his 
native  land,  and  would  give  his  life  for  her  free 
dom." 

"And  he  will  come  here  to  see  you  now?" 

"Yes,  but  my  father  must  not  know  it." 

"I  thought  you  were  always  so  against  anything 
being  done  unknown  to  our  parents.  When  I 
wanted  to  write  good-bye  to  Teddy  Bowen  you 
would  not  let  me." 

"I  expected  you  to  remind  me  of  this,  and  at  pres 
ent  I  can  give  you  no  explanation.  But  I  tell  you 
positively  that  I  am  doing  right.  Can  you  take  my 
word  for  it  ?" 

"I  believe  in  you,  Agnes,  as  if  you  were  the  Bible. 
I  know  you  will  only  do  right." 

"All  that  you  see  or  hear  or  are  told  about  this 
person  must  be  to  you  as  if  you  had  dreamed  a 
dream,  and  you  must  forget  that  you  ever  had  it." 

"I  have  said  that  I  would  be  faithful.  Darling 
Agnes,  you  know  that  you  may  trust  me." 

"Just  suppose  that  my  friend  should  be  seen,  and 


64      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

that  my  father  should  be  told,"  she  was  silent  a  mo 
ment  in  consideration  of  such  an  event,  and  Maria 
impulsively  continued : 

"In  that  case  I  would  say  it  was  my  friend." 

"That  would  not  be  the  truth." 

"But  he  might  be  my  friend,  we  might  have  be 
come  friends,  not  as  he  is  your  friend,  nothing  like 
that,  just  a  friend.  Are  you  very  fond  of  him, 
Agnes?" 

"I  love  him  as  my  own  life." 

"And  he  loves  you  in  that  way?" 

"He  loves  me!  Oh,  yes,  Maria,  he  loves  me! 
even  as  I  love  him." 

"Sweetest  Agnes,  thank  you  for  telling  me.  I 
will  see  what  you  tell  me  to  see,  and  hear  what  you 
tell  me  to  hear;  that,  and  that  only.  I  will  be  as 
true  to  you  as  your  own  heart." 

"I  am  sure  you  will.  Some  day  you  shall  know 
all.  Now,  we  will  say  no  more  until  there  is  a  rea 
son  ;  everything  is  so  uncertain.  Tell  me  about  the 
rout  last  night." 

"It  was  at  Governor  Robertson's.  His  daughter 
called  and  asked  me  to  honor  them  with  my  com 
pany;  and  grandmother  said  I  ought  to  go,  and 
uncle  Neil  said  I  ought  to  go — -so  I  went.  There 
was  a  great  time  dressing  me,  but  I  made  a  fine  ap 
pearance  when  it  was  done.  I  wore  my  silver-tissue 
gown,  and  grandmother  loaned  me  her  pearl  neck 
lace.  She  told  me  how  many  generations  of  Gordon 
ladies  had  worn  it,  and  I  felt  uncanny  as  she  clasped 
it  round  my  throat.  I  wondered  if  they  knew— 

"You  should  not  wonder  about  such  things.  Did 
vou  dance  much?" 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      65 

"I  had  the  honor  to  dance  with  many  great  people. 
Every  gentleman  danced  one  minuet  with  his  part 
ner,  and  then  began  cotillon  and  allemand  dances; 
and  there  were  some  songs  sung  by  Major  Andre, 
and  a  fine  supper  at  midnight.  It  was  two  o'clock 
when  I  got  home." 

"Tell  me  who  you  talked  with." 

"Oh,  everybody,  Agnes;  but  I  liked  most  of  all, 
the  lady  who  stays  with  the  Robertsons — Mrs.  Gor 
don  ;  her  husband  was  with  Burgoyne  and  is  a  pris 
oner  yet.  She  was  very  pleasant  to  me;  indeed,  she 
told  Uncle  Neil  'I  was  the  perfectest  creature  she  had 
ever  seen,'  and  that  she  was  'passionately  taken  with 
me.'  She  insisted  that  I  should  be  brought  to  her, 
and  talked  to  me  about  my  dress  and  my  lovers,  and 
also  about  grandfather  and  grandmother." 

"She  lived  with  them  once,  and  helped  to  make 
great  sorrow  in  their  house." 

"I  know.     Grandmother  does  not  forgive  her." 

"And  your  uncle?" 

"He  is  very  civil  to  her,  for  she  is  vastly  the  fash 
ion.  She  played  cards  all  the  evening,  and  called 
me  to  her  side  more  often  than  I  liked.  She  said  I 
brought  her  luck.  I  don't  think  she  approved  of 
my  dancing  so  often  with  Captain  Macpherson. 
she  asked  questions  about  him,  and  smiled  in  a  way 
that  was  not  pleasant,  and  that  made  me  praise  the 
Highlander  far  more  than  I  meant  to,  and  she  barely 
heard  me  to  the  end  of  my  talk  ere  she  turned  back 
to  her  cards,  and  as  she  did  so,  said :  'What  a  para 
gon  in  tartan  !  Before  this  holy  war  there  may  have 
been  such  men,  but  if  you  are  a  good  child  pray  that 
a  husband  may  drop  down  from  heaven  for  you; 


66      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

there  are  no  good  ones  bred  here  now/  Then  every 
one  near  began  to  protest,  and  she  spread  out  her 
cards  and  cried,  'Who  leads?  Diamonds  are 
trump.'  When  she  called  me  next,  she  was  sweep 
ing  the  sovereigns  into  her  reticule;  and  Governor 
Ludlow  said  she  was  Fortune's  favorite,  and  uncle 
Neil  said,  'I  see,  Madame,  that  you  now  play  for 
gold,'  and  I  think  uncle  meant  something  that  she 
understood,  for  she  looked  queerly  at  him  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  answered,  'Yes  I  play  for  money 
now.  I  confess  it.  Why  not?  If  you  take  away 
that  excuse,  the  rest  is  sinning  without  temptation/ 
She  is  so  well  bred,  Agnes,  and  she  speaks  with  such 
an  air,  you  are  forced  to  notice  and  remember  what 
she  says." 

Agnes  was  troubled  to  think  of  the  innocent  child 
in  such  society,  and  without  obtruding  counsel,  yet 
never  restraining  it  when  needful,  she  did  her  best  to 
keep  Maria's  conscience  quick  and  her  heart  right. 
It  was  evident  that  she  regarded  the  whole  as  a  kind 
of  show,  whose  color  and  sound  and  movement  at 
tracted  her ;  yet  even  so,  this  show  was  full  of  temp 
tation  to  a  girl  who  had  no  heart  care  and  no  lack  of 
anything  necessary  for  the  pride  of  life. 

This  afternoon  the  half-camp  and  half-garrison 
condition  of  New  York  was  very  conspicuous.  All 
was  military  bustle  and  excitement;  trumpets  were 
calling,  drums  beating,  and  regiments  parading  the 
streets  once  devoted  to  peaceful  commerce  and  do 
mestic  happiness.  Royalist  merchants  stood  in  the 
doors  of  their  shops  exchanging  snuff-box  compli 
ments  and  flattering  prophecies  concerning  the  ex 
pedition  about  to  leave — prophecies  which  did  not 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      67 

hide  the  brooding  fear  in  their  eyes  or  the  despond 
ing  shake  of  the  head  when  sure  of  a  passer's  sympa 
thy.  And  a  sensitive  observer  would  have  felt  the 
gloom,  the  shame  and  sorrow  that  no  one  dared  to 
express ;  for,  just  because  no  one  dared  to  express  it, 
the  very  stones  of  the  streets  found  a  voice  that 
spoke  to  every  heart.  The  bitterest  royalist  remem 
bered.  All  the  riot  of  military  music  could  not 
drown  the  memory  of  sounds  once  far  more  familiar 
—the  cheerful  greeting  of  men  in  the  market  place, 
and  all  the  busy,  happy  tumult  of  prosperous  trade; 
the  laughter  and  chatter  of  joyful  women  and  chil 
dren,  and  the  music  of  the  church  bells  above  the 
pleasant  streets. 

Neil  was  silent  and  unhappy;  Maria  full  of  the 
excitement  of  the  passing  moment.  They  sat  in  the 
open  window  of  Neil's  office  and  watched  company 
after  company  march  to  the  warships  in  which  they 
were  to  embark :  Grenadiers  of  Auspach  with  their 
towering  black  caps  and  sombre  military  air ;  brass- 
fronted  Hessians;  gaudy  Waldeckers;  English 
corps  glittering  in  scarlet  pomp;  and  Highlanders 
loaded  with  weapons,  but  free  and  graceful  in  their 
flowing  contour.  On  these  latter  especially,  both 
Neil  and  Maria  fixed  their  interest.  Who  can  say 
how  long  national  feeling,  expatriated,  may  live? 
Neil  leaped  to  his  feet  as  the  plaided  men  came  in 
sight.  Their  bagpipes  made  him  drunk  with  emo 
tion;  they  played  on  his  heartstrings  and  called  up 
centuries  of  passionate  feelings.  He  clasped  his 
sword  unconsciously;  his  hand  trembled  with  that 
magnetic  attraction  for  iron  that  soldiers  know.  At 
that  moment  he  said  proudly  to  his  soul,  "Thou  also 


68      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

art  of  Scottish  birth!"  and  a  vision  of  hills  and 
straths  and  of  a  tossing  ocean  rilled  his  spiritual 
sight. 

Maria's  interest  was  of  the  present  and  was  cen 
tered  on  the  young  captain  walking  at  the  head  of 
his  company;  for  Quentin  Macpherson  was  a  born 
soldier,  and  whatever  he  might  lack  in  a  ball-room, 
he  lacked  nothing  at  the  head  of  his  men.  His  red 
hair  flowing  from  under  his  plaided  bonnet  was  the 
martial  color ;  it  seemed  proper  to  his  stern  face  and 
to  the  musket  and  bayonet,  the  broadsword,  dirk  and 
pistols  which  he  wore  or  carried  with  the  ease  and 
grace  of  long  usage.  He  stepped  so  proudly  to  the 
strains  of  "Lochaber;"  he  looked  so  brave  and  so 
naturally  full  of  authority  that  Maria  was,  for  the 
moment,  quite  subjugated.  She  had  told  him  on 
the  previous  night,  at  what  place  she  was  to  view  the 
embarkment;  and  she  detected  the  first  movement 
which  showed  him  to  be  on  the  watch  for  her. 

This  fleeting  pleasure  of  exhibiting  himself  at  his 
best  to  the  girl  he  loves,  is  a  soldier's  joy;  and  the 
girl  is  heartless  who  refuses  him  the  small  triumph. 
Maria  was  kind,  and  she  shared  the  triumph  with 
him ;  she  knew  that  her  white-robed  figure  was  en 
trancing  to  the  young  captain,  and  she  stood  ready 
to  rain  down  all  of  Beauty's  influence  upon  his  lifted 
face.  Only  a  moment  was  granted  them,  but  in  that 
one  moment  of  meeting  eyes,  Maria's  handkerchief 
drifted  out  of  her  hand  and  Macpherson  caught  it 
on  his  lifted  bayonet,  kissed,  and  put  it  in  his  bosom. 
The  incident  was  accomplished  as  rapidly  and  per 
fectly  as  events  unpremeditated  usually  are;  for 
they  are  managed  by  that  Self  that  sometimes  takes 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      69 

our  affairs  out  of  all  other  control  and  does  perfect 
ly,  in  an  instant,  what  all  our  desiring  and  planning 
would  have  failed  to  do  in  any  space  of  time. 

Neil  was  much  annoyed,  and  made  a  movement 
to  stop  the  fluttering  lawn. 

"What  have  you  done,  Maria?"  he  asked  angrily. 
"The  Van  der  Donck's  and  half  a  dozen  other  wom 
en  are  watching  you." 

"I  could  not  help  it,  Uncle  Neil.  I  do  not  know 
how  it  happened.  1  never  intended  to  let  it  fall. 
Honor  bright!  I  did  not." 

And  perhaps  Neil  understood,  for  he  said  no  more 
on  the  subject  as  they  wralked  silently  home  through 
the  disenchanted  city.  All  the  bareness  of  its  brutal 
usage  was  now  poignantly  evident,  and  the  very  at 
mosphere  was  heavy  with  an  unconquerable  melan 
choly.  Some  half-tipsy  members  of  the  De  Lancey 
militia  singing  about  "King  George  the  Third"  only 
added  to  the  sense  of  some  incongruous  disaster. 
Everyone  has  felt  the  intolerable  ennui  which  fol 
lows  a  noisy  merry-making — the  deserted  disorder, 
the  spilled  wine,  the  disdained  food,  the  withered 
flowers,  the  silenced  jest,  the  giving  over  of  all  left 
to  desecration  and  destruction — all  this,  and  far 
more  was  concentrated  in  that  wretched  ennui  of 
unhappy  souls  which  filled  the  streets  of  New  York 
that  hot  summer  afternoon.  For  an  intense  dejec 
tion  lay  heavy  on  every  heart.  Like  people  with  the 
same  disease,  men  avoided  and  yet  sought  each 
other.  They  dared  not  say,  they  hardly  dared  to 
think,  that  their  love  for  the  King  was  dying  of  a 
disease  that  had  no  pity — that  their  idol  had  himself 
torn  away  the  roots  of  their  loyalty.  But  they 


7o      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

closed  their  shops  early,  and  retreated  to  the  citadel 
of  their  homes.  Melancholy,  hopelessness,  silence, 
infected  the  atmosphere  and  became  epidemic,  and 
men  and  women,  sensitive  to  spiritual  maladies,  went 
into  their  chambers  and  shut  their  doors,  but  could 
not  shut  out  the  unseen  contagion.  It  rained  down 
on  them  in  their  sleep,  and  they  dreamed  of  the 
calamities  they  feared. 

It  was  on  this  afternoon  that  John  Bradley  re 
ceived  a  new  "call"  and  answered  it.  Affected 
deeply  by  the  events  of  the  day,  he  left  his  shop  in 
the  middle  of  the  hot  afternoon  and  went  about  some 
business  which  took  him  near  the  King's  College 
Building,  then  crowded  with  American  prisoners. 
As  he  came  under  the  windows,  he  heard  a  thin, 
quavering  voice  singing  lines  very  dear  and  familiar 
to  him : 

Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take! 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 

In  blessings  on  your  head. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace : 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

Then  there  was  a  pause  and  Bradley  called  aloud: 
"Brother,  who  are  you?" 

"William  Watson,"  was  the  answer. 

"I  thought  so.     How  are  you?" 

"Dying,"  then  a  pause,  and  a  stronger  voice  add 
ed,  "and  in  need  of  all  things." 

"Brother  Watson,  what  do  you  want  that  I  can 
get  now?" 

"Cold  water  to  drink,  and  some  fresh  fruit,"  and 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      71 

then,  as  if  further  instructed  the  voice  added,  "when 
you  can,  a  clean  shirt  to  be  buried  in." 

"Tell  William  he  shall  have  them."  His  whole 
manner  had  changed.  There  was  something  he 
could  do,  and  he  went  at  once  for  the  fruit  and 
water.  Fortunately,  he  knew  the  provost  of  this 
prison  and  had  done  him  some  favors,  so  he  had  no 
hesitation  in  asking  him  to  see  that  the  small  com 
forts  were  given  to  William  Watson. 

"He  was  a  member  of  my  class  meeting,  Pro 
vost,"  said  Bradley;  "a  Methodist  leader  must  love 
his  brother  in  Christ."  Here  Bradley's  voice  failed 
him  and  the  Provost  added,  "I  knew  him  too — he 
used  to  live  in  good  style  in  Queen  Street.  I  will 
see  that  he  gets  the  fruit  and  water." 

"And  if  you  need  anything  for  yourself  in  the 
way  of  saddlery,  Provost,  I  will  be  glad  to  serve 
you." 

"I  was  thinking  of  a  new  riding  whip." 

"I  will  bring  you  the  best  I  have.  One  good  turn 
deserves  another." 

Then,  after  a  little  further  conversation  he  turned 
homeward,  and  men  who  met  him  on  the  way  won 
dered  what  was  the  matter  with  John  Bradley.  For, 
without  cessation,  as  he  walked,  he  went  over  and 
over  the  same  three  words,  "Christ  forgive  me!" 
And  no  one  could  smile  at  the  monotonous  iteration ; 
the  man  was  in  too  dead  earnest;  his  face  was  too 
remorseful,  his  voice  too  tragic. 

The  next  morning  he  was  very  early  in  Superin 
tendent  Ludlow's  office.  The  great  man  of  the 
Court  of  Police  had  not  arrived,  but  Bradley  waited 
until  he  came. 


72      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"You  are  an  early  visitor,  Mr.  Bradley,"  he  said 
pleasantly. 

"I  have  a  favor  to  ask,  Judge." 

"Come  in  here  then.  What  is  it?  You  are  no 
place  or  plunder  hunter." 

"Judge,  a  month  ago  you  asked  me  to  make  you  a 
saddle." 

"And  you  would  not  do  it.     I  remember." 

"I  could  not — at  least  I  thought  I  could  not ;  now, 
if  you  will  let  me,  I  will  make  you  the  fittest  saddle 
possible — it  shall  be  my  own  work;  every  stitch  of 
it." 

"How  much  money  do  you  want  for  such  a  saddle, 
Bradley?" 

"I  want  no  money  at  all.  I  want  a  very  small 
favor  from  you." 

"Nothing  for  the  rebels,  I  hope.  I  cannot  grant 
any  favor  in  that  direction." 

"I  want  nothing  for  the  rebels;  I  want  one  hour 
every  Sunday  afternoon  in  the  College  prison  with 
my  class  members." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  Bradley- 

"Yes,  you  know,  Judge.  You  know,  if  I  give  you 
my  promise,  I  will  keep  every  letter  of  it." 

"What  is  your  promise?" 

"I  want  only  to  pray  with  my  brothers  or  to 
walk  awhile  with  them  as  they  go  through  the  Val 
ley  of  the  Shadow.  I  promise  you  that  no  word 
of  war,  or  defeat  or  victory;  that  no  breath  of  any 
political  opinion  shall  pass  my  lips.  Nor  will  I  lis 
ten  to  any  such." 

"Bradley,  I  don't  think  I  can  grant  you  this  re 
quest.  It  would  not  be  right." 


LIFE  IN  THE  CAPTIVE  CITY      73 

"Judge,  this  is  a  thing  within  your  power,  and 
you  must  grant  it.  We  shall  stand  together  at  the 
Judgment,  and  when  the  Lord  Christ  says,  'I  was 
hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat :  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  no  drink :  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye 
took  me  not  in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  not :  sick, 
and  in  prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not :'  don't  let  me 
be  obliged  to  plead,  'Lord  Christ,  I  would  have  fed, 
and  clothed,  and  visited  the  sick  and  in  prison,  but 
this  man  barred  my  way.'  Open  the  door,  Judge, 
and  it  shall  be  well  with  you  for  it." 

Then,  without  a  word,  Ludlow  turned  to  his  desk 
and  wrote  an  order  permitting  John  Bradley  to  visit 
his  friends  for  one  hour  every  Sunday  afternoon; 
and  as  he  did  so,  his  face  cleared,  and  when  he 
signed  his  name  he  had  the  glow  of  a  good  deed  in 
his  heart,  and  he  said  : 

"Never  mind  the  saddle,  Bradley.  I  don't  want 
to  be  paid  for  this  thing.  You  say  William  Watson 
is  dying — poor  Willie !  We  have  fished  together 
many  a  long  summer  day" ;  and  he  took  a  few 
gold  pieces  from  his  pocket  and  added,  "they  are 
for  the  old  friend,  not  for  the  rebel.  You  under 
stand.  Good  morning,  sir." 

"Good  morning,  Judge.  I  won't  overstep  your 
grant  in  any  way.  I  know  better." 

From  this  interview  he  went  direct  to  the  prison 
and  sent  the  gold  to  the  dying  man.  And  as  he 
stood  talking  to  the  provost  the  dead  cart  came,  and 
five  nearly  naked  bodies  were  thrown  into  it,  their 
faces  being  left  uncovered  for  the  provost's  inspec 
tion.  Bradley  gazed  on  them  with  a  hot  heart; 
emaciated  to  the  last  point  with  fever  and  want, 


74     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

there  was  yet  on  every  countenance  the  peace  that  to 
the  living,  passeth  understanding.  They  had  died 
in  the  night-watches,  in  the  dark,  without  human 
help  or  sympathy,  but  doubtless  sustained  by  Him 
whose  name  is  Wonderful!" 

"All  of  them  quite  common  men !"  said  the  pro 
vost  carelessly — "country  rustics — plebeians!" 

But  when  Bradley  told  his  daughter  of  this  visit, 
he  added,  passionately,  ''Plebeians!  Well,  then, 
Agnes,  Plebeians  who  found  out  the  secret  of  a  noble 
death!" 

Sweeter  than  Joy,  tho'  Joy  might  abide; 

Dearer  than  Love,  tho'  Love  might  endure, 
Is  this  thing,  for  a  man  to  have  died 

For  the  wronged  and  the  poor! 

Let  none  be  glad  until  all  are  free; 

The  song  be  still  and  the  banner  furled, 
Till  all  have  seen  what  the  poets  see 
And  foretell  to  the  world ! 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE. 

THE  next  morning,  very  soon  after  breakfast, 
Maria  came  down  stairs  ready  to  visit  her  friend. 
She  was  dressed  like  a  schoolgirl  in  a  little  frock  of 
India  chintz,  her  black  hair  combed  backward  and 
plaited  in  two  long,  loose  braids.  One  morning  she 
had  tied  these  braids  with  red  ribbon,  and  been 
scornfully  criticised  by  her  grandmother  for  "makin' 
a  show  of  herself.''  The  next  morning  she  had  tied 
them  with  blue,  and  been  heart-pained  by  her  grand 
father's  sigh  and  look  of  reproach;  so  this  morning 
they  were  tied  with  ribbons  as  black  as  her  hair,  and 
as  she  turned  herself  before  the  long  mirror  she  was 
pleased  with  the  change. 

"They  make  my  braids  look  ever  so  much  longer/' 
she  said  with  a  pretty  toss  of  her  head ;  "and  grand 
mother  can  not  say  I  am  making  a  show  of  myself. 
One  must  have  ribbons  of  some  color,  and  black  is 
really  distinguished.  I  suppose  that  is  the  reason 
Uncle  Neil  wears  so  much  black  cloth  and  velvet." 

To  these  thoughts  she  ran  gaily  down  stairs.  The 
Elder  was  reading  Rivington's  Royal  Gazette;  Mad 
ame  had  a  hank  of  wool  over  two  chairs,  and  was 
slowly  winding  it.  She  looked  at  Maria  with  a 
little  disappointment.  Her  hat  was  on  her  head, 


76      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 


her  books  in  her  hand,  and  she  understood  where 
the  girl  was  going;  yet  she  asked:  "Is  it  Agnes 
Bradley  again,  Maria?" 

"Yes,  grandmother.  I  said  no  lessons  yesterday. 
We  were  watching  the  soldiers  pass,  and  the  peo 
ple,  and  I  was  expecting  Neil  and  there  seemed  no 
use  in  beginning  then.  I  told  Agnes  I  would  say 
extra  lessons  to-day." 

"And  I'm  doubting,  even  with  the  'extra,'  if  the 
lessons  amount  to  much." 

"Oh  grandmother!  I  have  learned  a  page  of 
'Magnall's  Questions,'  and  studied  a  whole  chapter 
in  'Goldsmith's  History'  about  King  John." 

"King  who?"  asked  Madame,  suspiciously.  "I 
never  heard  tell  o'  a  King  John.  David,  and  Rob 
ert,  and  James  I  ken;  but  John!  No,  no,  lassie! 
There's  nae  King  John." 

"Maria  means  John  of  England,"  explained  the 
Elder.  "He  was  a  vera  bad  king." 

"John  of  England,  or  George  of  England!"  an 
swered  Madame  disdainfully,  "kings  are  much  of  a 
muchness.  And  if  he  was  a  bad  king,  he  was  a  bad 
man,  and  ye  ought  to  put  your  commandments  on 
your  granddaughter,  Elder,  to  learn  naething  about 
such  wicked  men.  Ye  ken  as  well  as  I  do,  that  the 
Almighty  forbid  fhe  children  o'  Israel  even  to  in 
quire  anent  the  doings  of  thae  sinners,  the  Canaan- 
ites.  And  it  is  bad  enough  to  hae  to  thole  the  evil 
doings  o'  a  living  king,  without  inquiring  after  the 
crimes  o'  a  dead  one." 

"I  will  give  up  my  history  if  you  wish  it,  grand 
mother.  I  care  nothing  about  King  John." 

"Maria  must  learn  what  other  people  learn,"  said 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      77 

the  Elder.  "She  has  to  live  in  the  world,  and  she 
has  sense  enough  to  make  her  own  reflections.  Give 
me  a  kiss,  dearie,  and  study  King  John  if  you  like 
to,  he  was  a  bad  man,  and  a  bad  king,  but 

"Others  worse  than  him!"  ejaculated  Madame. 

"Give  me  a  kiss,  darling  grandmother,  one  for 
myself,  and  one  for  Agnes;  she  always  asks  for  it." 

Oh,  you  flattering  lassie!"  But  the  old  lady  gave 
the  two  kisses,  and  with  a  sweeping  courtesy,  Maria 
closed  the  door  and  went  humming  down  the  garden 
walk:  "Who  Sou1  Fair  Pamela?" 

She  had  not  gone  far  before  she  met  Moselle,  the 
only  slave  Bradley  possessed.  She  was  in  her  Sun 
day  clothing,  and  she  said  Missee  had  given  her  a 
vhole  day's  holiday.  In  that  case  Agnes  would  be 
ilone,  and  Maria  hastened  her  steps  onward.  The 
little  house  was  as  calm  and  peaceful  looking  as 
usual,  the  windows  all  open,  the  mignonette  boxes 
on  their  sills  in  full  bloom ;  the  white  shades  gently 
stirring  in  the  wind.  The  door  was  closed,  but  on 
the  latch,  and  Maria  turned  the  handle  and  went 
into  the  parlor.  It  was  empty,  but  the  ruffle  Agnes 
was  gathering  was  on  the  table,  and  Maria  took  off 
her  bonnet  and  laid  it  and  her  books  down  on  the 
cushioned  seat  within  the  window  recess.  As  she 
lifted  her  head  an  astonishing  sight  met  her  eyes. 
In  the  middle  of  the  yard  there  was  a  very  handsome 
young  man.  He  was  bareheaded,  tall,  and  straight 
as  a  ramrod,  and  stood  with  one  hand  on  his  hip 
and  his  face  lifted  to  the  sunshine.  Maria's  heart 
beat  quick,  she  lifted  her  bonnet  and  books,  re 
treated  to  the  front  door,  and  called  "Agnes"  in  a 
clear,  eager  voice. 


78      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 


In  a  moment  or  two,  Agnes  came  in  at  the  oppo 
site  door.  "Maria!"  she  cried,  "I  am  glad  to  see 
you.  Is  your  uncle  with  you?  No?  That  is  well. 
Come  with  me  to  the  kitchen.  I  have  given  Moselle 
a  holiday.  Maria,  I  have  a  friend — a  very  dear 
friend.  I  am  cooking  him  some  breakfast.  Come 
and  help  me." 

Agnes  spoke  in  a  hurried,  excited  manner  very 
unusual  to  her,  and  as  she  did  so,  the  two  girls  went 
into  the  little  outside  kitchen.  The  coffee  was 
ready,  the  steak  broiled,  and  as  Agnes  lifted  the  food 
she  continued,  "yes>  I  have  a  friend  this  morning. 
He  is  going  to  eat  in  the  summer-house,  and  you  will 
help  me  to  wait  upon  him.  Will  you  not,  Maria? 
Oh,  my  dear,  I  am  so  happy !"  And  Maria,  who  re 
membered  only  too  vividly  the  bare-headed  youth 
she  had  seen  for  a  moment,  gladly  accepted  the  of 
fice.  A  spirit  of  keen  pleasure  was  in  the  dingy  lit 
tle  kitchen,  and  the  girls  moved  gaily  to  it.  "You 
shall  carry  the  coffee,  and  I  will  carry  the  steak," 
said  Agnes;  "the  bread  and  the  china  are  already 
placed."  So  laughing  and  chatting,  and  delighted 
with  their  service  the  two  girls  entered  the  summer- 
house. 

"Harry,"  said  Agnes,  "this  is  my  friend,  Maria 
Semple;  and  Maria,  this  is  Harry  Deane."  And 
Harry  looked  with  frank  eyes  into  Maria's  eyes,  and 
in  a  moment  they  knew  each  other.  What  was  this 
strange  impression  made  by  a  look?  Not  a  word 
was  spoken,  but  the  soul  salutation  through  meeting 
eyes  was  a  far  more  overwhelming  influence  than 
any  spoken  word  could  have  evoked.  Then  came 
the  current  forms  of  courtesy,  and  the  happy  tones 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      79 

of  low  laughter  slipping  in  between  the  mingling  of 
voices,  or  the  soft  tinkling  of  glass  and  china,  and 
everyone  knows  that  as  soon  as  talking  begins  the 
divine  gates  close.  It  mattered  not,  Maria  knew 
that  something  wonderful  had  happened  to  her ;  and 
never  in  all  her  subsequent  life  could  she  forget  that 
breakfast  under  the  clematis  vines. 

Swiftly  the  hot,  still  hours  of  the  mid-day  passed. 
The  city  was  torpid  in  the  quivering  heat.  There 
was  no  stir  of  traffic — no  lumbering  sound  of  loaded 
wagons — no  noise  of  shouting  drivers — no  foot 
steps  of  hurrying  men.  The  streets  were  almost 
empty;  the  very  houses  seemed  asleep.  Only  the 
cicadas  ran  from  hedge  to  hedge  calling  shrilly;  or 
now  and  then  a  solitary  trumpet  stirred  the  drowsy 
air,  or,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  prisons,  the  moaning  of 
the  dying  men,  made  the  silence  terribly  vocal. 

"Let  us  go  into  the  house,"  said  Agnes,  "it  will 
be  cooler  there/'  And  they  took  Maria's  hands  and 
went  to  the  shaded  parlor.  Then  Harry  drew  some 
cool  water  from  the  well,  and  as  they  drank  it  they 
remembered  the  men  in  the  various  prisons  and  their 
pitiful  need  of  water  at  all  times. 

"They  are  the  true  heroes,"  said  Agnes;  "tor 
tured  by  heat  and  by  cold,  by  cruel  hunger  and  more 
cruel  thirst,  in  all  extremities  of  pain  and  sorrow, 
they  are  paying  their  life  blood,  drop  by  drop,  like 
coin,  for  our  freedom." 

"And  when  our  freedom  is  won,"  answered 
Harry,  "we  will  give  to  the  dead  their  due.  They, 
too,  have  saved  us.' 

"Do  you  think,  Harry,  this  French  alliance  is  go 
ing  to  end  the  war  ?" 


8o      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

"Those  who  know  best  say  it  will.  But  these 
Frenchmen  are  giving  Washington  no  end  of 
trouble.  They  are  mostly  military  adventurers. 
They  worry  Washington  for  promotion  and  for  in 
crease  of  pay;  they  have  only  their  own  interest  in 
view.  They  scorn  our  privations  and  simplicity, 
and  their  demands  can  only  be  gratified  at  the  ex 
pense  of  native  officers  whose  rights  they  unjustly 
wish  to  invade.  Yet  I  am  told  that  without  French 
money  and  French  help  we  should  have  to  give  up 
the  struggle.  I  don't  believe  it.  Starving  and  de 
moralized  as  our  army  is,  there  are  many  who  will 
never  give  up  while  Washington  is  alive  to  lead 
them." 

"If  I  was  a  rebel,"  said  Maria,  "I  should  want 
our  freedom  won  by  our  own  hands  only.  The 
French  are  coming  here  at  the  last  hour,  and  they 
will  get  all  the  credit.  Do  you  think  it  is  for  love 
of  freedom  they  help  the  Americans?  If  so,  why 
do  they  not  give  freedom  to  France?  She  has  the 
most  tyrannical  and  despotic  of  governments; 
Uncle  Neil  says  so;  and  yet  she  pretends  to  thrill 
with  indignation  because  England  violates  the  liber 
ties  of  her  colonies.  France  had  better  mind  her 
own  affairs,  or,  as  grandmother  says,  she  will  scald 
herself  with  other  people's  broth." 

"God  made  the  French,  and  He  may  understand 
them,  I  do  not,"  answered  Harry.  "Fancy  the 
French  government  allowing  our  Declaration  of  In 
dependence  to  be  translated  and  scattered  broadcast 
all  over  the  country!  No  wonder  that  Lafayette 
smiled  grimly  when  he  heard  of  it;  no  wonder  he 
said  that  'the  principles  of  government  we  had  an- 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE       81 

nounced  would  soon  be  heard  from  in  France.'  He 
can  see  the  results,  but  the  king  and  queen — who 
catch  up  every  fashion  and  every  enthusiasm  with 
childish  levity — do  not  imagine  any  one  will  have 
the  audacity  to  apply  American  principles  of  govern 
ment  to  the  French  monarchy.  'Give  me  good  news 
from  our  dear  American  republicans/  is  always 
Marie  Antoinette's  greeting  to  Franklin,  and  he 
himself  is  one  of  her  prime  favorites." 

"Oh,  he  is  a  cunning  old  man,"  said  Maria.  "I 
have  heard  grandfather  talk  about  him.  I  am  sure 
he  is  disagreeable;  yet  the  French  have  his  picture 
on  their  snuff-boxes  and  rings  and  brooches.  It  is 
such  foolishness.  And  Uncle  Neil — who  is  a  very 
clever  lawyer — says  some  very  disparaging  things 
about  this  famous  Declaration.  It  is  at  least  most 
inconsistent." 

Harry  looked  his  dissent,  and  Agnes  said :  "Per 
haps  you  did  not  understand  your  uncle,  Maria." 

"I  am  not  quite  a  fool,  Agnes.  In  one  respect  I 
am  cleverer  than  Mr.  Jefferson.  Imagine  an  assem 
bly  composed  largely,  like  himself,  of  slave-owners, 
saying  'that  all  men  were  created  equal,  and  were 
given  by  God  an  unalienable  right  to  liberty.'  And 
do  you  think  if  I  were  king  or  queen  of  France  I 
would  scatter  a  paper  in  every  house  telling  my 
miserable,  starving  subjects,  that  'whenever  a  gov 
ernment  did  not  do  what  it  ought  to  do,  it  was  the 
right  of  the  people  to  alter  or  abolish  it.'  Indeed,  I 
think  King  Louis  and  Queen  Marie  Antoinette  will 
be  sorry  some  day  for  teaching  their  people  Ameri 
can  ideas  of  government." 

"What  do  they  say  in  England  about  the  French 
alliance?"  asked  Agnes. 


82      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"The  Parliament  declares  we  have  not  only  re 
belled  against  the  mother-country,  but  also  mort 
gaged  ourselves  to  her  enemy ;  and  that  if  we  are 
to  become  an  accession  to  France,  self-preservation 
requires  England  to  make  that  accession  of  as  little 
value  as  possible.  That  does  not  sound  very  bad, 
Agnes,  but  it  means  killing  men,  women  and  chil 
dren,  burning  houses,  ravaging  1and,  and  making 
life  so  wretched  that  death  will  be  preferable.  Now 
you  understand  such  expeditions  as  Matthew's  and 
Tryon's.  So  I  say  with  Miss  Semple,  it  is  a  pity  for 
many  reasons  we  had  to  beg  foreign  help ;  especially 
from  the  three  nations  who  are  hereditary  foes  of 
England." 

"The  French  did  not  help  you  much  at  Newport," 
said  Maria  scornfully. 

"They  left  us  in  the  very  oncoming  of  the  battle ; 
as  soon  as  Lord  Howe  came  in  sight — sailed  away 
to  the  West  Indies,  where  they  had  plans  of  their 
own  to  carry  out.  The  indignation  of  our  army  was 
beyond  description;  no  one  but  Washington  could 
at  this  time  have  kept  peace  between  the  French  and 
American  soldiers.  Their  jealousy  was  flaming, 
and  Washington  could  not  help  saying  he  wished 
there  was  not  a  foreigner  in  the  army  but  Lafayette. 
But  when  Necessity  compels,  it  becomes  Destiny,  eh, 
Agnes?" 

"Yes.  I  think  England  must  now  be  in  a  very 
dangerous  predicament,  Harry." 

"She  has  thirteen  colonies  in  revolt;  France, 
Spain,  Holland,  uniting  against  her,  and  a  large  ma 
jority  of  her  own  people  conspicuously  in  our  favor. 
Our  old  mother-country!  I  am  sorry  for  her,  for 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      83 

she  is  ours,  and  we  are  her  sons,  even  though  we 
have  been  compelled  to  rebel  against  her." 

"I  think  it  is  England  that  has  rebelled  against 
us,"  said  Agnes.  "She  has  repudiated  our  chartered 
rights,  and  made  us  aliens  to  the  laws  and  privileges 
which  are  our  natural  heritage.  England  is  traitor 
to  America,  and  I  don't  see  why  you  should  be  sorry 
for  her." 

"Can  you  take  the  English  blood  out  of  my  heart? 
No.  I  want  our  Independence,  that  we  must  have, 
nothing  less  will  now  satisfy  us ;  but  I  don't  want  to 
see  three  other  nations,  who  have  no  business  in  our 
family  quarrel,  badgering  the  old  mother.  If  you 
had  a  liking  for  some  noble  old  mastiff,  and  saw  him 
attacked  by  three  strange  dogs,  how  would  you 
feel?" 

"Well,  Harry,  if  the  mastiff  was  hurting  me,  I 
might  feel  obliged  to  the  strange  dogs.  I  do  not 
wonder  that  France,  Spain,  and  Holland  should  take 
this  opportunity  to  fight  England ;  but  I  do  wonder 
that  Englishmen,  living  in  England,  should  be  on 
our  side." 

"They  have  been  so  from  the  very  first.  The 
King  has  found  it  impossible  to  get  soldiers  to  fight 
us.  They  regard  us  as  their  countrymen.  They 
refuse  to  acknowledge  the  war  as  an  'English'  war; 
they  call  it  'The  King's  War' ;  and  they  look  upon 
our  victories  as  triumphs  for  representative  govern 
ment.  I  saw  a  letter  from  Judge  Curwen  of  Boston, 
in  which  he  says  he  visited  a  large  factory  in  Birm 
ingham  where  they  were  making  rifles  to  be  used  by 
the  English  troops  in  America ;  and  he  found  that  the 
proprietor,  as  well  as  every  man  thus  employed,  was 


84      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

enthusiastically  on  our  side.  Fox  spoke  of  an  Eng 
lish  success  on  Long  Island  as  'the  terrible  news 
from  America' ;  and  many  say  that  the  Whig  party, 
of  which  he  is  the  leader,  adopted  blue  and  buff  for 
their  colors,  because  Washington  had  chosen  them 
for  his  troop.  In  both  houses  of  Parliament  we 
have  many  powerful  friends,  and  the  American 
cause  is  spoken  of  throughout  England  as  the  cause 
of  Liberty." 

Oh,  you  must  be  mistaken !"  cried  Maria. 
"Grandfather  says  things  very  different;  and  if 
England  is  for  us,  why  does  the  war  go  on  ?  Whose 
fault  is  that." 

"It  is  the  fault  of  King  George;  the  most  stupid 
of  men,  but  with  a  will  as  indomitable  as  the  beasts 
of  the  desert.  Not  even  King  Charles  was  so  de 
termined  to  ruin  himself  and  the  nation.  He  is  cruel 
as  he  is  immovable.  It  is  The  King's  War,  my 
mistresses,  and  only  the  King's  friends  and  syco 
phants  and  the  clergy  defend  it." 

"And  what  will  those  Englishmen  who  would  not 
lift  a  finger  against  us  do  against  our  allies?" 

"Do?  They  are  preparing  with  joyful  enthusi 
asm  to  fight  their  old  enemies.  It  made  my  heart 
throb  to  hear  how  they  were  jumping  to  arms,  at  the 
mere  idea  of  a  French  and  Spanish  fleet  in  the  Eng 
lish  Channel." 

"You  are  half  an  Englishman,  Mr.  Deane,"  said 
Maria. 

"No,"  he  answered  warmly;  "I  am  out  and  out, 
from  head  to  foot,  an  American !  I  was  born 
here,  bred  here,  and  I  shall  live  and  die  here;  nor  do 
I  wish  to  live  in  any  other  country.  But  brave  men 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      85 

and  free  men  feel  with  a  gigantic  throb  each  other's 
rights  and  wrongs,  even  across  oceans — thus  we  are 
brothers.  And  the  roots  of  my  being  are  some 
where  in  England;  I  can  not  cut  myself  loose  from 
them ;  I  do  not  wish  to.  The  feeling  belongs  to  the 
unknown  side  of  human  reasons — but  it  governs 
me." 

'"I  thought,"  said  Maria,  "you  would  talk  about 
nothing  but  Washington,  and  you  have  hardly 
named  him.  Is  he  as  great  a  man  as  we  are  told  he 
is?  Or  does  he  have  faults  like  the  rest  of  poor 
mortals  ?" 

"Indeed,  Miss  Semple,  he  is  so  great  a  man  I  have 
forgotten  whether  he  has  a  fault.  He  is  such  a  man 
as  men  build  their  love  round  while  he  leads  them  on 
the  way  to  immortality.  Often  I  have  seen  the  whole 
army  shaken,  confused,  hopeless;  but  Washington 
never  shrank,  or  slipped,  or  compromised ;  he  looked 
unswervingly  to  the  end.  He  is  the  Moses  of  Amer 
ica;  our  people's  hope,  our  young  men's  idol,  our 
old  men's  staff  and  sword.  And  even  physically, 
who  would  compare  our  god-like  Washington  with 
this?"  and  he  took  from  his  pocket-case  a  pen-and- 
ink  sketch  of  King  George,  taken  at  the  beginning 
of  the  war  and  showed  it  to  the  girls. 

They  looked  at  it  curiously,  and  Maria  said: 
"Surely,  Mr.  Deane,  that  is  not  a  true  likeness;  it  is 
what  you  call  a  pasquil — a  lampoon — to  make 
ridiculous  his  Majesty." 

"It  is  not  intended  as  a  lampoon.  But  I  never 
see  it  without  thinking  of  the  mighty  ghosts  of 
the  great  Henrys,  and  the  armed  Edwards,  and 
then  I  wonder  if  they  are  not  watching,  with 


86      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

anger  and  amazement,  the  idiotic  folly  of  this  Ger 
man." 

"I  must  really  go  home  now,"  said  Maria.  She 
spoke  as  if  she  had  all  at  once  become  aware  of  the 
gravity  of  the  words  she  was  listening  to.  "I  should 
not  have  stopped  so  long.  Grandmother  is  not 
well." 

And  she  thought  Agnes  was  not  sorry  to  bid  her 
good-bye;  "but  that  is  natural,"  she  reflected,  "I 
suppose  I  should  feel  the  same.  She  must  have  a 
great  many  things  to  tell  such  a  lover.  I  dare  be 
bound  I  have  been  much  in  the  way." 

Her  feelings  were  captious  and  impetuous,  and 
she  walked  rapidly  to  them,  in  spite  of  the  heat. 
Somehow  she  was  not  pleased  with  Agnes,  and 
Harry  Deane  also  had  bid  her  but  a  formal  farewell. 
And  yet  not  formal;  for  when  he  held  her  hand  a 
moment,  he  laid  it  open  within  his  own,  and  said 
with  a  look  she  could  not  forget,  "my  life  lies  there. 
I  have  put  it  in  your  hand  myself,  knowingly,  will 
ingly."  And  she  had  clasped  his  hand  and  an 
swered  gravely : 

"It  is  as  safe  there  as  it  would  be  in  the  hand  of 
your  mother — or  of  Agnes." 

It  was  not  Harry  that  she  was  fretted  at,  it  was 
Agnes.  She  felt  that  in  some  way  Agnes  had  de 
ceived  her.  She  had  not  said  secrecy  would  include 
hours  of  rebel  conversation — "and  I  wonder  at  my 
self  for  listening  to  it,"  said  the  little  woman  angrily. 
"I  suppose  it  was  Mr.  Deane — men  talk  women 
down.  I  know  I  should  not  have  let  Agnes  talk  in 
that  way  to  me — just  as  if  I  believed  all  he  said !  If 
Uncle  Neil  had  been  there,  he  would  have  scattered 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      87 

every  word  to  the  four  winds  with  little  trouble. 
And,"  she  continued,  with  rising  temper,  "I  don't 
think  Agnes  acts  fairly  to  Uncle  Neil.  He  is  her 
devoted  lover,  and  she  knows  it,  she  must  know  it. 
People  don't  walk  slowly  up  and  down  in  the  moon 
light  and  not  know  such  things.  I  am,  they  say, 
only  a  child,  but  I  have  walked  with  Captain  Mac- 
pherson  in  the  moonlight,  and  I  know  how  amiable 
it  makes  me  feel.  I  am  disappointed  in  Agnes!" 
and  she  really  felt  at  that  moment  as  if  her  friend 
had  done  her  some  great  wrong.  So  much  easier  is 
it  to  blame  others  than  to  look  deep  down  into  our 
own  hearts  for  the  reason  of  dissatisfaction.  For 
whenever  we  are  disappointed,  we  are  disappointed 
with  ourselves,  though  we  may  not  admit  it." 

When  she  entered  the  Semple  garden  she  was  en 
compassed  with  the  delicious  perfume  of  carnations. 
Then  she  remembered  that  they  were  her  grand 
father's  favorite  flower,  and  that  before  the  war  his 
garden  had  been  a  wonder  and  delight  with  their 
beauty  and  fragrance.  And  in  some  subtle  way,  the 
flowers  made  an  avenue  for  a  spiritual  influence, 
more  in  accord  with  the  natural  uprightness  of 
the  girl's  nature.  She  sighed  and  sauntered  through 
the  scented  space,  and  as  she  did  so,  began  to  make 
her  confession.  "Perhaps  it  was  my  fault — perhaps 
I  was  just  a  little  jealous — it  is  not  pleasant  to  be  the 
outside  one;  if  Captain  Macpherson,  or  even  that 
stupid  Lord  Medway  had  been  my  servant  I  should 
not  have  felt  so  small ;  but  that  was  not  the  fault  of 
Agnes — nevertheless,  Agnes  ought  not  to  treat 
Uncle  Neil  badly." 

It  was  a  kind  of  inconsequent  reasoning,  but  it 


88      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

restored  her  to  herself,  and  she  entered  the  house 
very  cheerfully,  looking  into  the  parlor  first  of  all, 
to  see  whom  she  could  find  to  talk  to.  All  the  rooms 
down  stairs  were  sweet  with  the  same  enthralling 
odor  of  carnations ;  but  they  were  dusky,  silent  and 
empty;  and  she  went  to  her  grandmother's  room  on 
the  second  floor.  "Are  you  awake,  dear  grand 
mother?''  she  asked,  as  she  tapped  gently  on  the 
door. 

"Come  in,  dearie,"  was  the  answer,  and  Madame 
raised  herself  from  the  bed  as  Maria  entered  and 
went  to  a  large  chair  by  the  open  window.  "It  is 
hotter  than  needs  be,"  she  said,  "and  I  have  had 
company." 

"Who  has  been  here,  grandmother?" 

"Mrs.  Jermyn  brought  us  an  invitation  to  the 
Bayards.  It  is  for  a  three  days'  visit." 

"I  am  so  happy.  I  have  heard  about  Colonel 
Bayard's  fine  house  on  the  Heights;  you  will  surely 
go,  grandmother?" 

"I  can  not  go,  Maria;  but  Mrs.  Jermyn  offered 
to  take  you  in  her  party ;  and  to  that  I  am  agreeable. 
Madame  Jacobus  will  go  with  you,  and  I  am  vera 
fond  o'  Madame  Jacobus.  She  is  not  an  ordinary 
woman;  she  has  had  romantics  in  her  life,  and  the 
vera  look  o'  her  sets  you  thinking  o'  all  sorts  o'  im 
possibilities.  Tell  her  Madame  Semple  keeps  good 
mind  o'  her,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  her  again;" 
then  she  added  sharply,  "Mrs.  Gordon  was  with  her. 
I  was  quite  taken  aback.  I  was  all  in  a  tremble  at 
first." 

"She  is  so  anxious  to  be  friends  with  you;  can't 
you  forgive  her,  grandmother?  It  is  a  long  time 
since." 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      89 

"Maria  Semple,  no  one  is  mair  willing  than  I  am, 
to  let  byganes  be  byganes.  But  mind  this,  there  are 
folks  simply  unlucky  to  you,  and  not  intending  it; 
and  Adelaide  Gordon  and  Janet  Semple  are  best 
apart.  She  is  one  o'  them  women  who  bring  hap 
penings  and  events,  and  I  notice  they  are  not  pleas 
ant  or  favorable.  You  will  hae  heard  say,  Maria, 
wha  it  is,  that  sends  a  woman,  where  he  canna  go 
himsel'.  Cousin  Gordon  means  no  harm — but." 

'Indeed,  she  really  likes  you.  She  talks  to  me 
of  the  days  she  lived  with  you,  and  of  all  your  kind 
ness  to  her.  It  was  Katherine  Van  Heemskirk  that 
behaved  badly.  I  don't  think  I  like  that  person— 
and  I  want  you  to  forgive  Mrs.  Gordon." 

"I  have  forgiven  Mrs.  Gordon,  Maria.  Do  you 
think  I  would  put  the  Lord's  prayer  behind  my  back 
for  Adelaide  Gordon  ?  And  I  couldna  dare  to  say  it 
and  not  forgive  her;  but  to  love  your  friend,  and 
look  to  yoursel'  isna  out  o'  the  way  o'  wisdom." 

"When  am  I  to  go,  grandmother  ?" 

"Mrs.  Jermyn  will  call  for  you  at  ten  o'clock  to 
morrow  morning.  How  about  thae  lessons,  and  the 
'extras'  you  were  speaking  o'  ?" 

"It  is  such  warm  weather.  I  think  I  ought  to 
have  my  holiday  now;  and  what  about  my  frocks, 
grandmother?  Shall  I  not  have  to  pack  my  small 
trunk?" 

This  subject  was,  of  course,  paramount,  and  Ma 
dame  went  to  Maria's  room  with  her,  and  the  proper 
garments  were  selected  and  packed.  Very  soon  the 
whole  house  was  infected  with  the  hurry  and  excite 
ment  of  the  little  lady,  and  the  Elder  tried  to  join  in 
the  discussion  and  employment;  it  being  one  of  his 


90      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

pet  ideas  that  he  had  a  pretty  taste  about  women's 
clothing.  But  his  first  suggestion  that  the  simple 
frock  of  India  chintz  Maria  was  wearing  was  a  most 
becoming  morning  gown,  met  with  such  a  decided 
rebuff  he  had  no  courage  left  for  further  advice. 
For  Maria  looking  scornfully  down  at  its  short  sim 
plicity  asked,  "Why  do  you  not  advise  a  white  ruffled 
pinafore  also,  grandfather  ?  Then  I  would  be  fit  for 
an  infant  school.  I  am  a  young  lady  now,"  she 
continued,  as  she  spread  out  its  three  breadths  to 
their  utmost  capacity,  showing  in  the  act  the  pret 
tiest  little  feet,  shod  in  bronze  leather  with  red  ro 
settes  on  the  instep.  And  when  a  man  finds  his  opin 
ions  out  of  date,  what  can  he  do  but  retire  with  them 
into  silence? 

The  quiet  that  fell  upon  the  house  after  Maria's 
departure  was  a  grateful  respite.  The  old  people 
sat  down  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  while  they  praised 
their  granddaughter's  sweet  nature,  and  talked 
proudly  of  all  her  excellences,  they  were  not  sorry 
to  be  at  rest  for  a  day  or  two.  Neither  was  the  El 
der  sorry  to  casually  notice  the  absence  of  Maria  to 
certain  royalist  upstarts  who  had  won  wealth 
through  their  chicaneries,  but  who  had  not  been  able 
to  win  the  social  notice  they  craved. 

"Elder  Semple  may  be  pinched,  now  and  then,  for 
a  few  sovereigns,"  he  thought,  "but  he  and  his  can 
sit  down  with  the  highest  of  the  King's  servants  and 
be  counted  one  o'  them.  And  it  will  be  lang  ere  the 
Paynes  and  the  Bradleys  and  many  others  I  could 
name,  will  get  that  far !" 

Such  reflections  gave  to  the  old  gentleman's  steps 
something  of  the  carriage  of  his  more  prosperous 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      91 

days;  he  looked  outward  and  upward  in  his  old 
manner,  and  thus  saw  Mr.  Cohen,  the  Jewish  trader, 
standing  in  his  shop  door.  He  asked  pleasantly 
after  his  health,  and  by  so  doing  brought  a  few  good 
words  on  himself,  which  somehow  went  warmly  to 
his  heart.  In  this  amiable  temper  he  passed  the  fa 
mous  saddlery  shop.  John  Bradley  was  just  dis 
missing  a  customer.  He  was  wearing  his  apron  of 
blue  and  white  ticking,  and  had  a  paper  cap  upon  his 
head,  and  he  looked  precisely  what  he  was — a  capa 
ble,  self-respecting  workman.  Semple  had  always 
permitted  a  polite  salutation  to  cover  all  claims  on 
his  courtesy  that  Bradley  might  have ;  but  this  morn 
ing  he  said  with  a  friendly  air,  "How's  all  with  you, 
Mr.  Bradley  ?  Will  you  tell  your  charming  daugh 
ter  that  her  friend,  Miss  Semple,  has  gone  wi'  a 
party  o'  our  military  friends  to  the  Bayards'  for  a 
three  days'  visit?" 

"Agnes  will  miss  her  friend,  Elder." 
"Yes,  yes !     They  went  off  this  morning  early,  up 
the  river  wi'   music  and  singing.     Young  things, 
most  o'  them,  Mr.  Bradley,  and  we  must  make  allow 


ances." 


"If  we  must,  we  must,  Elder.  And  God  knows, 
if  it  isn't  the  lute  and  the  viol,  and  the  tinkling  feet  of 
the  foolish  maidens,  it  is  the  trumpet,  and  the  sword, 
and  the  hell  of  the  battlefield.  Evil  times  we  are 
fallen  on,  sir." 

"But  they  are  to  bring  us  good  times.  We  must 
not  doubt  that.  My  respects,  sir,  to  Miss  Bradley, 
who  has  a  voice  to  lift  a  soul  on  the  wings  of  melody, 
heavenward.  Good  day,  sir." 

Semple  went  forward  a  little  dashed,  he  hardly 


92      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

knew  why;  and  Bradley  was  chagrined.  He  had 
tried  to  say  something  that  should  not  only  repre 
sent  himself,  but  also  acknowledge  the  kindness 
he  was  sensible  of;  but  he  had  only  blundered  into 
commonplaces,  and  quite  against  his  will,  shown 
much  of  his  roughest  side.  Why  did  he  include  the 
Elder's  granddaughter  among  the  tinkling  feet  of 
foolish  maidens?  She  was  the  friend  of  his  own 
child  also.  He  felt  that  he  had  had  an  opportunity 
and  mismanaged  it,  and  a  sense  of  his  inabilities  in 
all  social  matters  mortified  and  fretted  him  all  the 
day  afterward. 

Maria  was  expected  home  in  three  days,  but  she 
did  not  come.  Her  party  went  directly  from  the 
Bayard  house  to  Hempstead,  where  Colonel  Birch 
was  entertaining  a  large  company  from  the  city ;  so 
it  was  fully  a  week  before  the  young  lady  returned 
to  New  York.  In  the  meantime  Destiny  was  not 
asleep,  and  affairs  in  which  Maria  was  interested  did 
not  lie  still  waiting  for  her  reappearance. 

Maria  had  left  a  message  for  Agnes  with  her 
uncle,  and  he  resolved  to  take  it  personally  that  even 
ing.  But  as  he  was  drinking  his  tea  the  Elder  said, 
"I  saw  Mr.  Bradley  this  morning,  and  I  sent  word 
by  him  to  his  daughter  anent  Maria's  absence." 
Neil  did  not  make  any  answer,  but  his  mother  no 
ticed  the  sweep  of  color  up  and  down  his  dark  face, 
and  she  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "you  hae  taken 
the  job  out  o'  hands  that  would  hae  done  it  better, 
gudeman."  But  the  wisdom  and  kindness  of  si 
lence  was  granted  her ;  yet  the  Elder  felt  his  remark 
to  be  unpropitious,  and  sighed.  There  were  so 
many  subjects  these  days  that  he  made  mistakes 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE      93 

about;  and  he  had  a  moment's  recollection  of  his 
old  authoritative  speech,  and  a  wonder  as  to  what 
had  happened  him.  Was  it  that  he  had  fallen  out  of 
the  ranks  of  the  workers  of  the  world  ?  Or,  was  it 
because  he  was  growing  old  ?  He  was  silent,  and  so 
pathetic  in  his  silence,  that  Neil  observed  it  and 
blamed  himself. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "pardon  me!  I  was  thinking. 
I  have  been  with  Major  Crosby  all  day  about  the 
Barrack  Department  finances,  and  that  is  not  work 
to  be  talked  about.  It  is  well  you  told  Mr.  Bradley 
of  Maria's  absence." 

"I  wonder  you  did  not  go  with  Maria;  you  had 
an  invitation." 

"Yes,  I  had  an  invitation,  but  I  had  engagements 
of  more  importance  with  Brigadier  Skinner  and 
Treasurer  McEvers.  McEvers  is  to  pay  me  with 
wood  from  a  rebel  tract  granted  him.  So  when  the 
cold  weather  comes  we  shall  not  require  to  count  the 
sticks;  we  can  at  least  keep  warm." 

He  rose  with  these  words  and  went  to  his  room. 
He  told  himself  that  he  would  there  consider  a  visit 
to  Miss  Bradley,  and  yet  he  knew  that  he  intended 
to  make  it  no  matter  what  considerations  came  up 
for  his  deliberation.  Not  for  a  moment  did  he  de 
ceive  himself;  he  was  well  aware  that  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  was  really  in  love.  He  admitted 
frankly  that  his  early  passion  for  the  pretty  Kather- 
ine  Van  Heemskirk  had  been  a  selfish  affair;  and 
that  his  duel  with  Captain  Hyde  was  fought,  not  so 
much  for  love  of  Katherine,  as  for  hatred  and  jeal 
ousy  of  his  rival.  He  had  never  loved  Katherine  as 
he  loved  Agnes,  for  it  was  the  soul  of  Agnes  that 


94      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

attracted  him  and  drew  him  to  her  by  a  gravitation, 
like  that  which  one  star  exerts  upon  another.  His 
first  love  he  had  watched  grow  from  childhood  to 
maidenhood ;  he  could  count  on  his  fingers  the  num 
ber  of  times  he  had  seen  Agnes  Bradley;  and  yet 
from  this  slender  experience  there  had  sprung  an  in 
vincible  longing  to  say  to  her,  "O,  Soul  of  my  Soul, 
I  love  you !  I  need  you !" 

Yet  to  make  Agnes  his  wife  at  this  time  was  to 
make  sacrifices  that  he  durst  not  contemplate.  They 
included  the  forfeiture  of  his  social  position,  and 
this  loss  was  certain  to  entail  the  same  result  on  his 
political  standing  and  emoluments.  His  father  was 
connected  with  his  financial  affairs,  and  to  ruin  him 
self  meant  also  ruin  to  the  parents  he  loved  so  truly. 
Then  the  sudden  fear  that  assails  honest  lovers  made 
his  heart  tremble;  Agnes  might  have  scruples  and 
reluctances ;  she  might  not  be  able  to  love  him ;  she 
might  love  some  other  man,  Maria  had  named  such 
a  probability ;  with  a  motion  of  his  hand  he  swept  all 
contingencies  aside;  no  difficulties  should  abate  his 
ardor;  he  loved  Agnes  Bradley  and  he  was  deter 
mined  to  win  her. 

With  this  decision  he  rose,  stood  before  his  mir 
ror,  and  looked  at  himself.  Too  proud  a  man  to 
be  infected  with  so  small  a  vice  as  vanity,  he  re 
garded  his  personality  without  unreasonable  favor. 
"I  am  still  handsome,"  he  said.  "If  I  have  not 
youth,  I  have  in  its  place  the  perfection  of  my  own 
being;  I  am  now  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  have  not 
began  to  fall  away  from  it.  Many  young  and  beau 
tiful  women  have  shown  me  favor  I  never  sought. 
Now,  I  will  seek  favor;  I  will  woo  it,  beg  it,  pray 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


95 


for  it  I  will  do  anything  within  honor  and  honesty 
to  win  this  woman  of  my  soul,  this  adorable  Agnes !" 

He  found  her  in  the  garden  of  her  home ;  that  is, 
she  was  sitting  on  the  topmost  step  of  the  short 
flight  leading  to  the  door.  Her  silent,  penetrative 
loveliness  encompassed  her  like  an  atmosphere  in 
which  all  the  shafts  of  the  shelterless,  worrying  day 
fell  harmless.  She  smiled  more  than  spoke  her  wel 
come,  and  her  eyes  unbarred  her  soul  so  that  they 
seemed  to  understand  each  other  at  a  glance;  for 
Neil's  love  was  set  far  above  all  passionate  tones  of 
welcome  or  personal  adulation.  Sitting  quiet  by 
her  side  he  noticed  a  man  walking  constantly  before 
the  house,  and  he  pointed  out  the  circumstance  to 
Agnes. 

"He  will  walk  there  until  my  father  comes  home," 
she  answered.  "It  is  Elias  Hurd  the  chapel  keeper. 
Father  pays  him  to  come  here  every  day  at  sunset 
and  watch  till  he  returns." 

"Your  words  take  a  great  fear  from  me,"  said 
Neil;  and  then,  though  his  heart  was  brim  full  he 
could  say  no  more.  Silence  again  enfolded  them, 
and  the  song  in  each  heart  remained  unsung.  Yet 
the  overwhelming  influence  of  feelings  which  had 
not  found  words  was  upon  them,  and  this  speechless 
interlude  had  been  to  both  the  clearest  of  revealers. 

After  a  week's  pleasure-seeking  Maria  returned 
home.  It  was  in  the  middle  of  a  hot  afternoon,  and 
life  was  at  its  most  languid  pitch.  The  Elder  was 
asleep  in  his  chair,  Madame  asleep  on  the  sofa,  and 
the  negroes  dozing  in  the  kitchen.  Her  entry 
aroused  the  house,  her  personality  instantly  filled  it. 
She  was  flushed  and  tired,  but  alive  with  the  egotis- 


96      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

tical  spirit  of  youth.  "Were  you  not  expecting  me?" 
she  asked  with  an  air  of  injury,  as  she  entered  the 
drowsy,  tidy  house.  "And  I  do  want  a  cup  of  tea 
so  much,  grandmother." 

"You  were  coming  Monday,  and  then  you  were 
coming  Wednesday;  \ve  did  not  know  whether 
you  would  come  to-day  or  not;  but  you  are  very 
welcome,  clear,  and  you  shall  have  tea  in  ten 
minutes." 

She  went  upstairs  while  it  was  preparing,  took  off 
her  bonnet  and  her  silk  coat,  dashed  cool  water  over 
her  flushed  face  and  shoulders  and  arms,  wet  her 
hair  and  brushed  it  backward,  and  then  put  on  a 
loose  gown  of  thin  muslin.  "Now  I  can  drink  my 
tea  in  comfort,"  she  said,  "and  just  talk  at  my  leis 
ure.  And  dear  me !  What  a  week  of  tumult  it  has 
been!" 

"Have  you  enjoyed  your  visits?"  asked  the  Elder 
when  she  reappeared. 

"So,  so,  grandfather,"  she  answered;  and  as  she 
spoke,  she  lifted  the  small  tea-table  close  to  his  side, 
and  whispered  on  his  cheek,  "you  will  have  a  cup  of 
tea  with  me,  dear  grandfather,  I  shall  not  enjoy  mine 
unless  you  do."  He  said  "pooh!  pooh!  child,"  but 
he  was  delighted,  and  with  beaming  smiles  watched 
her  small  hands  busy  among  the  china,  and  the  bread 
and  meat. 

"I  am  downright  hungry,"  she  said.  "We  had 
breakfast  before  leaving,  but  that  seems  hours  and 
hours  ago,  and,  O  grandmother !  there  is  no  tea  and 
bread  like  yours  in  all  the  world." 

Then  she  began  her  long  gossip  concerning  people 
and  events :  the  water  parties  on  the  river,  the  pic- 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE       97 

nics  in  the  woods,  the  dancing  and  gambling  and 
games  in  the  house.  "And  I  must  tell  you,"  she 
said,  "that  really  and  truly,  I  was  the  most  admired 
of  all  the  beauties  there.  The  ladies  all  envied  my 
frocks,  and  asked  where  I  got  them,  and  begged  for 
the  patterns;  and  I  wished  I  had  taken  more  with 
me.  It  is  so  exhilerating  to  have  a  new  one  for 
every  evening.  Lord  Medway  said  every  fresh  one 
became  me  better  than  the  last." 

"Lord  Medway!"  said  the  Elder.  "Is  he  that 
long,  lazy  man  that  trails  after  General  Clinton  like 
his  shadow?" 

"Well,  they  love  each  other.  It  seems  funny  for 
men  to  love  one  another;  but  General  Clinton  and 
Lord  Ernest  Medway  are  like  David  and  Jonathan." 

"Maria  Semple!"  cried  Madame,  "I  think  you 
might  even  the  like  o'  Clinton  and  the  English  Lord, 
to  some  one  o'  less  respectability  than  Bible  charac 
ters." 

"O  grandmother!  General  Clinton  is  just  as 
blood-thirsty  as  General  David  ever  was.  He  hates 
his  enemies  quite  as  perfectly,  and  wishes  them  all 
the  same  sorts  and  kinds  of  calamities.  I  don't 
know  whether  Jonathan  was  good-natured,  but  Lord 
Medway  is.  He  danced  with  me  as  often  as  I  would 
let  him,  and  he  danced  with  nobody  else!  think  of 
that,  grandmother!  the  women  were  all  madly  jeal 
ous  of  me.  I  did  not  care  for  that  much." 

"Janet,  dear,"  said  the  Elder  to  his  wife,  "if  you 
had  ever  seen  this  Lord  Medway  trailing  up  William 
Street  or  Maiden  Lane,  you  wouldna  believe  the  las 
sie.  He  is  just  the  maist  inert  piece  o'  humanity 


98        A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

you  could  imagine.  Dancing!  Tuts!  Tuts!  las 
sie!" 

"He  can  dance,  grandfather.  Mrs.  Gordon  said 
the  way  he  led  me  through  a  minuet  was  adorable; 
and  Major  Andre  told  me  that  in  a  skirmish  or  a 
cavalry  charge,  no  one  could  match  him.  He  was 
the  hardest  rider  and  fiercest  fighter  in  the  army." 

"Weel,  weel !"  said  Madame,  "a  man  that  isna 
roused  by  anything  short  o'  a  battle  or  a  cavalry 
charge,  might  be  easy  to  live  with — if  you  have  any 
notion  for  English  lords." 

"Indeed,  I  have  not  any  notion  for  Lord  Medway. 
He  is  the  most  provoking  of  men.  He  takes  no  in 
terest  in  games,  he  won't  stake  money  on  cards,  he 
listened  to  the  music  with  his  eyes  shut;  and  when 
Miss  Robertson  and  Major  Andre  acted  a  little  piece 
the  Major  had  written,  he  pretended  to  be  asleep. 
He  was  not  asleep,  for  I  caught  him  awake,  and  he 
smiled  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say  that  I  knew  all  about 
his  deception,  and  sanctioned  it.  I  told  him  so  after 
ward,  and  he  laughed  so  heartily  that  every  one 
looked  amazed,  and  what  do  you  think  he  said  ?  'It 
is  a  fact,  ladies ;  I  really  laughed,  but  it  is  Miss  Sem- 
ple's  fault.'  I  don't  think,  grandmother,  I  would 
have  been  invited  to  Hempstead  if  he  had  not  let  it 
be  known  that  he  was  not  going  unless  Miss  Semple 
went." 

"Is  he  in  love  with  you?" 

"He  thinks  he  is." 

"Are  you  in  love  with  him?" 

Maria  smiled,  and  with  her  teacup  half-way  to 
her  mouth  hummed  a  line  from  an  old  Scotch  song : 

"I'm  glad  that  my  heart's  my  ain." 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE       99 

Such  conversation,  touching  many  people  and 
many  topics,  was  naturally  prolonged,  and  when 
Neil  came  home  it  was  carried  on  with  renewed  in 
terest  and  vigor.  And  Maria  was  not  deceived 
when  Neil  with  some  transparent  excuse  of  'going 
to  see  a  friend'  went  out  at  twilight. 

"He  is  going  to  see  Agnes,"  she  thought;  "my 
coming  home  is  too  good  an  excuse  to  lose,  but  why 
did  he  not  tell  me?  Lovers  are  so  sly,  and  yet  all 
their  cunning  is  useless.  People  always  see  through 
their  little  moves.  In  the  morning  I  shall  go  to 
Agnes,  and  I  hope  she  will  not  be  too  advising,  be 
cause  I  am  old  enough  to  have  my  own  ideas :  be 
sides,  I  have  some  experiences." 

All  the  way  to  her  friend's  house  in  the  morning, 
she  was  making  resolutions  which  vanished  as  soon 
as  they  were  put  to  the  test.  It  was  only  too  easy 
to  fall  into  her  old  confidential  way,  to  tell  all  she 
had  seen  and  heard  and  felt;  to  be  petted  and  ad 
mired  and  advised.  Also,  she  could  relate  many  lit 
tle  episodes  to  Agnes  that  she  had  not  felt  disposed 
to  tell  her  grandparents,  or  even  Neil — compliments 
and  protestations,  and  sundry  "spats"  of  envy  and 
jealousy  with  the  ladies  of  the  party.  But  the  con 
versation  settled  mainly,  however  often  it  diverged, 
upon  Lord  Medway.  Agnes  had  often  heard  her 
father  speak  of  him.  He  knew  John  Wesley,  and 
had  asked  him  to  preach  at  Market-Medway  to  his 
tenants  and  servants ;  and  on  the  anniversary  of  the 
Wesley  Chapel  in  John  Street  he  had  given  Mr. 
Bradley  twenty  pounds  toward  the  Chapel  fund. 
"He  is  a  far  finer  man  than  he  affects  to  be,"  she 
added,  "and  father  says  he  wears  that  drawling, 


ioo    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

trailing  habit  like  a  cloak,  to  hide  his  real  nature. 
Do  you  think  he  has  fallen  in  love  with  you,  Maria?" 

"Would  it  be  a  very  unlikely  thing  to  happen, 
Agnes  ?  He  danced  only  with  me,  and  when  Major 
Andre  arranged  the  Musical  Masque,  he  consented 
to  sing  only  on  the  condition  that  I  sang  with  him." 

"And  what  else,  Maria?" 

"One  evening  Quentin  Macpherson  danced  the 
Scotch  sword  dance — a  very  clever  barbaric  thing — 
but  I  did  not  like  it;  the  man  looks  better  at  the 
head  of  his  company.  However,  he  sang  a  little 
song  called  The  Soldier's  Kiss'  that  was  pretty 
enough.  The  melody  went  in  this  way" — and  Maria 
hummed  a  strain  that  sounded  like  the  gallop  of 
horses  and  shaking  of  bridles — "I  only  remember  the 
chorus,"  she  said. 

"A  kiss,  Sweet,  a  kiss,  Sweet, 
For  the  drums  are  beat  along  the  street, 
And  we  part,  and  know  not  when  we  meet, 
With  another  kiss  like  this,  Sweet. 

"And  Lord  Medway  whispered  to  me  that  Shake 
speare  had  said  it  all  far  better  in  one  line,  'Touch 
her  soft  mouth  and  march.'  In  Major  Andre's 
masque  we  had  a  charming  little  verse;  I  brought 
you  a  copy  of  it,  see,  here  it  is.  The  first  two  lines 
have  a  sweet  crescendo  melody;  at  the  third  line 
there  was  a  fanfare  of  trumpets  in  the  distance  and 
the  gentlemen  rattled  their  swords.  The  fourth  line 
we  sang  alone,  and  at  the  close  Lord  Medway  bowed 
to  me,  and  the  whole  room  took  up  the  refrain." 
Then  the  girls  leaned  over  the  paper,  and  Agnes 
read  the  words  aloud  slowly,  evidently  committing 
them  to  her  memory  as  she  read : 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE    101 

"A  song  of  a  single  note! 

But  it  soars  and  swells  above 
The  trumpet's  call,  and  the  clash  of  arms, 
For  the  name  of  the  song  is  Love." 

"Now  sing  me  the  melody,  Maria,"  said  Agnes; 
and  Maria  sang,  and  Agnes  listened,  and  then  they 
sang  it  together  until  it  was  perfect.  "Just  once 
more,"  said  Maria,  and  as  they  reached  the  close  of 
the  verse,  a  strong,  musical  voice  joined  in  the  re 
frain,  and  then  Harry  came  into  the  room  singing  it. 

"Harry!  Harry!"  cried  Agnes,  joyfully. 

"And  the  name  of  the  song  is  Love!"  he  an 
swered,  taking  Agnes  in  his  arms  and  kissing  the 
word  on  her  lips.  Then  he  turned  with  a  glowing 
face  to  Maria,  anii  she  bent  her  head  a  little  proudly, 
and  remained  silent.  But  soon  Agnes  went  away  to 
order  coffee  for  her  visitor,  and  then  Harry  sat  down 
by  Maria,  and  asked  to  see  the  song,  and  their  hands 
met  above  the  passionate  words,  and  the  dumb  let 
ters  became  vocal.  They  sang  them  over  and  over, 
their  clear,  fresh  voices  growing  softer  and  softer, 
till,  almost  in  a  whisper  of  delight,  they  uttered  the 
last  word  "Love!"  Then  he  looked  at  her  as  only 
a  lover  can  look,  and  she  looked  at  him  like  one  who 
suddenly  awakens.  Her  past  was  a  sleep,  a  dream ; 
that  moment  her  life  began.  And  she  had  all  the 
tremors  that  mark  the  beginnings  of  life;  a  great 
quiet  fell  upon  her,  and  she  wanted  to  go  into  soli 
tude  and  examine  this  wonderful  experience.  For 
Harry  had  stirred  one  of  those  unknown  soul  depths 
that  only  Love  ventures  down  to. 

When  Agnes  returned  she  said  she  must  go  home, 
her  grandmother  was  not  well;  and  then  she  blun 
dered  into  such  a  number  of  foolish  excuses  as  made 


io2     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

Agnes  look  curiously,  perhaps  anxiously,  at  her. 
And  for  several  days  she  continued  these  excuses; 
she  sent  Neil  with  messages  and  letters,  but  she  did 
not  go  to  her  friend.  There  was  something  wrong 
between  them,  and  Maria  finally  threw  the  blame 
upon  Agnes. 

"Any  one  may  see  that  she  is  deceiving  either 
Harry  or  uncle  Neil — and  I  hate  a  deceiver.  It  is 
not  fair — I  am  sure  if  Harry  knew  about  uncle — if 
he  was  not  engaged  to  Agnes — Oh,  no !  I  must  not 
think  of  him.  Poor  uncle  Neil!  If  Agnes  treats 
him  badly,  I  shall  never  forgive  her,  never!"  Thus, 
and  so  on,  ran  her  reflections  day  after  day,  and 
yet  she  had  not  the  courage  to  go  and  talk  the  matter 
out  with  Agnes.  But  she  noticed  an  unusual  exal 
tation  in  her  uncle's  manner ;  he  dressed  with  more 
than  his  usual  sombre  richness;  he  seemed  to  tread 
upon  air,  and  though  more  silent  than  ever,  a  smile 
of  great  sweetness  was  constantly  on  his  lips.  And 
one  afternoon  as  Maria  sat  at  her  tambour  frame, 
Madame  entered  the  parlor  hastily,  looking  almost 
frightened. 

"Do  you  hear  him?  Your  uncle,  I  mean.  Do 
you  hear  him,  Maria?"  she  cried.  "He  is  singing. 
He  must  be  fey.  I  haven't  heard  him  sing  since  he 
was  a  lad  going  to  Paul  Gerome's  singing  class. 
It's  uncanny!  It  frightens  me!  And  what  is  he 
singing,  Maria?" 

And  Maria  lifting  a  calm  face  answered — "The 
name  of  the  song  is  Love." 


CHAPTER    V. 

LOVE'S   SWEET   DREAM. 

IT  is  not  truth,  but  falsehood  which  requires  ex 
planation,  and  Maria  was  sensible  of  this  fact  as  she 
sat  at  her  tambour  frame  thinking  of  Agnes  and  of 
Harry  and  of  her  uncle  Neil.  There  was  something 
not  straightforward  in  the  life  of  Agnes,  and  she 
resolved  every  day  to  make  inquiry  into  it,  and  every 
day  she  made,  instead,  some  deferring  excuse.  But 
one  morning,  while  eating  breakfast,  they  were  all 
sensitive  to  unusual  movements  in  the  city,  and  the 
air  was  tense  with  human  emotion.  The  Elder  and 
Neil  became  restless  and  anticipative,  and  Maria 
could  not  escape  the  feverish  mental  contagion. 
When  the  men  had  left  the  house  she  hurried 
through  her  few  duties,  and  then  went  to  her 
friend.  Agnes  was  standing  at  the  garden  gate, 
watching  and  listening.  "There  is  news  of  some 
kind,  Maria,"  she  said;  "I  am  anxious  to  know  what 
it  is." 

"Grandmother  says  we  need  not  run  after  news,  it 
will  find  us  out,  and  I  dare  say  it  is  only  more  Con 
necticut  ravaging." 

Then  Agnes  turned  into  the  house  with  Maria,  for 
she  perceived  something  unusual  in  her  voice  and 
manner — dissatisfaction,  and  perhaps  a  tone  of  in- 


104      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

jury.  There  was  no  pretence  of  study  about  her, 
she  had  not  even  brought  her  books,  and  Agnes  be 
came  silent,  and  lifted  her  sewing.  At  length 
Maria  spoke: 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Agnes?"  she 
asked,  and  then  added:  "you  are  not  like  yourself 
this  morning." 

"Whatever  the  matter  is,  Maria,  I  caught  it  from 
you." 

"You  are  cross." 

"I  was  only  curious  and  anxious  when  you  came. 
You  brought  dissatisfaction  and  annoyance  with 
you.  I  think  you  had  better  tell  me  at  once  what 
has  displeased  you." 

"Oh,  you  must  know  what  displeases  me,  Agnes. 
Do  you  think  I  can  bear  to  see  you  playing  with  two 
lovers  at  once?  I  am  very  fond  of  my  uncle  Neil, 
and  he  adores  you.  And  when  Harry  is  away, 
uncle  Neil  is  everything;  but  as  soon  as  Harry 
comes,  then  Harry  is  everything.  It  is  not  fair  to 
uncle,  and  I  do  not  approve  of  such  ways.  If  I  were 
to  act  in  that  kind  of  fashion  between  Lord  Medway 
and  Quentin  Macpherson,  who  would  be  so  shocked 
as  Agnes  Bradley?  I  am  so  disappointed  in  you, 
Agnes.  I  have  not  been  able  to  come  and  see  you 
for  days;  this  morning  I  felt  that  I  must  speak  to 
you  about  things." 

"Maria,  I  once  asked  you  to  defer  judgment  on 
whatever  you  saw  or  heard  or  suspected,  and  to  take 
my  word  for  it  being  all  right.  It  seems  that  I 
asked  too  much." 

"But  how  can  it  be  all  right,  if  you  allow  two  men 
to  make  love  to  you  ? — and  you  seem  to  like  it  from 
both  of  them." 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          105 

"I  do  like  it — from  both  of  them.  The  two  loves 
are  different." 

"Agnes!  Agnes!  I  am  shocked  at  you!"  and 
Maria  hid  her  face  on  the  sofa  cushion  and  began 
to  cry. 

Then  Agnes  knelt  at  her  side,  and  lifted  her  face 
and  kissed  it,  and  whispered  four  words  in  her  ear  ; 
and  there  was  a  look  of  wonder,  and  Maria  asked 
softly,  "Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before?" 

"I  thought  every  time  you  saw  him  you  would 
surely  guess  the  truth." 

"I  did  not." 

"You  must  have  seen  also  that  Harry  is  deeply 
in  love  with  you.  Now,  how  could  he  be  in  love 
with  me  also?" 

"Harry  in  love  with  me!  O  Agnes!" 

"You  know  it.  Love  cannot  be  hid.  Only  lovers 
look  at  a  woman  as  I  have  seen  Harry  look  at  you." 

"I  do  think  Harry  likes  me,  and  I  felt  as  if — I 
don't  know  what  I  felt,  Agnes.  I  am  very  un 
happy." 

"Let  me  tell  you  what  you  felt.  You  said  to 
yourself :  if  Harry  was  not  bound  to  Agnes  he  would 
be  my  lover ;  and  Agnes  does  not  care  for  him,  she 
does  not  treat  him  well,  and  yet  she  treats  him  too 
well  to  be  doing  right  to  uncle  Neil.  You  would  in 
clude  your  uncle,  because  you  would  feel  it  selfish 
to  be  wounded  and  disappointed  only  on  your  own 
account." 

"You  ought  not  to  speak  in  that  way,  Agnes. 
Suppose  I  had  such  feelings,  it  is  not  nice  of  you  to 
put  them  into  words  so  plain  and  rude." 

"I  do  not  blame  you,  Maria.     Your  attitude  is 


106    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

natural,  and  specially  womanly.  It  is  I  who  have 
been  wrong.  I  must  now  excuse  myself  to  you; 
once  you  said  you  could  believe  in  me  without  ex 
planations." 

"Forgive  me,  Agnes.  I  do  not  want  explana 
tions  now." 

"For  I  have  told  you  that  Harry  is  my  brother, 
not  my  lover.  That  is  the  main  fact,  and  accounts 
for  all  that  specially  troubles  you.  Now  you  must 
know  the  whole  truth.  Harry  was  sent  to  England 
out  of  the  way  of  the  war,  for  my  father  lives  and 
moves  in  his  being  and  welfare.  But  Harry  wanted 
to  be  in  the  thick  of  the  war ;  he  wanted  the  post  of 
most  danger  for  his  country's  sake.  He  said  he  was 
ashamed  to  be  in  England;  that  every  American 
who  could  be  in  active  service  ought  to  be  there,  be 
cause  it  might  be,  God  intended  to  use  just  him.  I 
gave  in  to  all  he  proposed;  I  had  no  heart  to  resist 
him.  I  only  stipulated  that  come  what  would,  our 
father  should  not  know  he  was  in  the  country." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  at  first  that  he  was  your 
brother?" 

"Harry  is  handsome,  and  I  was  afraid  you  might 
be  attracted  by  him ;  and  the  secrecy  and  romance  of 
the  situation  and  the  danger  he  was  constantly  fac 
ing — these  are  things  that  capture  a  woman's  im 
agination.  And  marriage  is  such  an  important  af 
fair,  I  could  not  think  it  right  to  run  the  risk  of  en 
gaging  you  to  Harry  unknown  to  your  father  or 
friends.  I  told  Harry  that  you  believed  him  to  be 
my  lover,  and  I  was  sure  that  this  belief  would  save 
you  from  thinking  of  him  in  any  light  but  that  of 
a  friend  or  brother." 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          107 

"It  ought  to  have  done,  dear  Agnes;  it  did  do— 
but  Harry." 

"I  know,  at  Harry's  second  visit,  if  not  at  his 
first,  he  was  your  lover;  and  I  knew  that  this  ex 
planation  must  come.  Now,  I  can  only  beg  you  to 
keep  the  knowledge  of  Harry  Bradley' s  presence  in 
America  absolutely  to  yourself.  I  assure  you,  if 
father  knew  he  was  here  and  in  constant  danger,  he 
would  be  distracted." 

"But  does  he  not  suspect?  He  must  wonder  that 
Harry  does  not  write  to  him." 

"Harry  does  write.  He  sends  letters  to  a  friend 
in  London,  who  re-mails  them  to  father.  About 
three  times  a  year  father  gets  a  London  letter,  and 
that  satisfies  him.  And  he  so  little  suspects  Harry's 
presence  in  America  that  the  boy  has  passed  his  fa 
ther  on  the  street  without  the  slightest  recognition 
on  father's  part;  for  he  has  more  disguises  than  you 
could  believe  possible.  I  have  seen  him  as  a  poor 
country  doctor,  buying  medicines  for  his  settlement ; 
as  an  old  schoolmaster,  after  a  few  books  and  slates 
at  Rivington's ;  and  a  week  ago,  I  met  him  one  day 
shouting  to  the  horses  which  were  pulling  a  load  of 
wood  up  Golden  Hill.  And  he  has  no  more  tran 
sitions  than  a  score  of  other  young  men  who  serve 
their  country  in  this  secret  and  dangerous  manner. 
I  can  assure  you  General  Washington's  agents  go 
in  and  out  of  New  York  constantly,  and  it  is  beyond 
the  power  of  England  to  prevent  them." 

"Suppose  in  some  evil  hour  he  should  be  sus 
pected!  Oh,  Agnes!" 

"There  are  houses  in  every  street  in  the  city  where 
a  window  or  a  door  is  always  left  open.  Harry  told 


io8    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

me  he  knew  of  sixteen,  and  that  he  could  pass  from 
one  to  the  other  in  safety." 

"Suppose  he  should  be  noticed  on  the  river,  at 
your  landing  or  any  other." 

"He  can  swim  like  a  fish  and  dive  like  a  seal  and 
run  like  a  deer.  The  river  banks  that  look  like  a 
tangle  to  you  and  me,  are  clear  as  a  highway  to 
Harry.  And  you  know  it  is  the  East  river  that  is 
watched;  no  one  thinks  much  about  the  water  on 
this  side ;  especially  so  near  the  fort.  I  do  not  think 
Harry  is  in  any  great  danger ;  and  he  will  be  mainly 
on  the  river  now  for  some  months." 

"I  wish  I  had  not  said  a  word,  Agnes.  I  am  so 
sorry!  So  sorry!" 

"We  are  always  sorry  when  we  doubt.  I  felt  that 
you  were  mistrusting  me,  and  I  promised  Harry,  on 
his  last  visit,  to  tell  you  the  truth  before  he  came 
again.  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  all  week.  I 
should  have  told  you  to-day,  even  if  you  had  not  said 
a  word." 

"I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

"I  was  wrong  also,  Maria.  I  ought,  at  the  first, 
to  have  trusted  you  fully." 

"Or  not  trusted  me  at  all,  Agnes." 

"You  are  right,  Maria." 

A  great  chagrin  made  Maria  miserable.  A  little 
faith,  a  little  patience,  and  the  information  she  had 
demanded  in  spirit  unlovely  and  unloving,  would 
have  come  to  her  by  Harry's  desire,  and  with  the 
affectionate  confidence  of  Agnes.  But  neither  of 
the  girls  were  fully  satisfied  or  happy,  and  the  topic 
was  dropped.  Both  felt  that  the  matter  would  have 
to  rest,  in  order  to  clear  itself,  and  Agnes  was  not 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          109 

unconscious  of  those  mute  powers  within,  which,  if 
left  to  themselves,  clear  noiselessly  away  the  debris 
of  our  disputes  and  disappointments.  She  proposed 
a  walk  in  the  afternoon;  she  said  she  had  shopping 
to  do,  and  if  there  was  any  news,  they  would  likely 
hear  it  from  some  one." 

There  was  evidently  news,  and  Agnes  at  once 
judged  it  unfavorable  for  the  royalists.  The  mili 
tary  were  moving  with  sullen  port ;  the  houses  were 
generally  closed,  and  the  people  on  the  streets  not  in 
clined  to  linger  or  to  talk.  "We  had  better  ask  my 
father,"  she  said,  and  they  turned  aside  to  Bradley's 
store  to  make  the  inquiry.  The  saddler  was  stand 
ing  at  the  door  talking  to  Lord  Medway;  and  his 
eyes  flashed  an  instant's  triumphant  signal  as  they 
caught  his  daughter's  glance  of  inquiry.  But  he 
kept  his  stolid  air,  and  when  he  found  Lord  Med 
way  and  Maria  so  familiarly  pleased  to  meet  each 
other,  he  introduced  Agnes  and  gave  a  ready  ac 
quiescence  to  Lord  Med way's  proposal  to  walk  with 
the  ladies  home. 

Then,  Maria,  suddenly  brilliant  with  a  sense  of 
her  power,  asked,  "What  is  the  matter  with  the  city 
this  afternoon  ?  Every  one  seems  so  depressed  and 
ill-humored." 

"We  have  lost  Stony  Point,"  answered  Medway. 
"There  was  a  midnight  attack  by  twelve  hundred 
picked  men.  It  was  an  incomparable  deed  of  dar 
ing.  I  would  like  to  have  been  present.  I  said  to 
General  Clinton  when  I  heard  the  story,  'Such  men 
are  born  to  rule,  and  coming  from  the  stock  they 
do,  you  will  never  subdue  them !' ' 

"Who  led  the  attack?"  asked  Agnes. 


no    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

" Anthony  Wayne,  a  brave  daring  man,  they  tell 
me.  The  Frenchman,  De  Fleury,  was  first  in,  and 
he  hauled  down  our  flags.  Dash  it!  If  it  had  been 
an  American,  I  would  not  have  cared  so  much. 
Now,  perhaps,  Generals  Clinton  and  Tryon  will  un 
derstand  the  kind  of  men  they  have  to  fight.  When 
Americans  fight  Englishmen,  it  is  Greek  meeting 
Greek.  Clinton  tells  me  the  rebels  have  taken  four 
thousand  pounds'  worth  of  ordnance  and  stores  and 
nearly  seven  hundred  prisoners.  Oh,  you  know  a 
deed  like  this  makes  even  an  enemy  proud  of  the 
men  who  could  do  it!" 

"Was  it  a  very  difficult  deed?"  asked  Maria. 

"I  am  told  that  Stony  Point  is  a  rock  two  hundred 
feet  high,  surrounded  by  the  Hudson  River  on  three 
sides,  and  almost  isolated  from  the  land  on  the 
fourth  side  by  a  marsh,  which  at  high  tide  is  two 
feet  under  water.  They  reached  the  fort  about  mid 
night,  and  while  one  column  drew  the  defenders  to 
the  front  by  a  rapid  continuous  fire,  two  other  col- 
ums,  armed  only  with  the  bayonet,  broke  into  the 
fort  from  opposite  points.  In  five  minutes  the 
rebels  were  rushing  through  every  embrasure,  and  a 
thousand  tongues  crying  'Victory' !  There  is  no  use 
belittling  such  an  affair.  It  was  as  brave  a  thing  as 
ever  men  did,  and  I  wish  I  had  seen  the  doing  of  it." 

In  such  conversation  they  passed  up  Maiden  Lane, 
and  by  the  ruins  of  Trinity  Church  to  the  river  side ; 
all  of  them  influenced  by  the  tense  feeling  which 
found  no  vocal  outlet  for  its  passion.  Men  and 
women  would  appear  for  a  moment  at  a  window, 
and  then  disappear.  They  were  American  patriots 
on  the  look-out  to  spread  the  good  news.  A  flash 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          in 

from  the  lifted  eyes  of  Agnes  was  sufficient.  Again 
they  would  meet  two  or  three  royalists  talking  in  a 
dejected,  disparaging  way  of  the  victory;  or  else 
blustering  in  anger  over  the  supineness  or  ineffi 
ciency  of  their  generals. 

"I  hope  General  Clinton  will  now  find  his  soldiers 
some  tougher  work  than  hay-making,"  sneered  an 
irate  old  man  who  stopped  Lord  Medway.  "If  he 
goes  out  hay-making,  he  ought  to  leave  fighting  men 
in  the  forts.  Why  the  commander  at  Stony  Point 
— Colonel  Johnson — I  know  him,  had  a  wine  party, 
and  the  officers  from  Verplanck's  Point  were  drink 
ing  with  him,  when  Wayne  walked  into  their  midst 
and  made  them  all  prisoners.  I  am  told  the  senti 
nels  had  been  secured,  the  abatis  removed,  and  the 
rebels  in  the  works  before  our  fine  soldiers  knew  an 
enemy  was  near.  And  it  was  that  tanner  from 
Pennsylvania — that  Dandy  Wayne,  that  stole  the 
march  on  them !  It  makes  me  ashamed  of  our  Eng 
lish  troops,  my  lord ! 

1  'Well,  Mr.  Smith,  General  Clinton  will  be  in  New 
York  in  a  few  days.  There  will  be  many  to  call 
him  to  account,  I  have  no  doubt." 

In  this  electric  atmosphere  heart  spoke  to  heart 
very  readily,  for  in  the  midst  of  great  realities  con 
ventionalities  are  of  so  little  consequence,  and  genu 
ine  feeling,  of  any  kind,  forgets,  or  puts  aside,  flat 
teries  or  compliments.  So  when  they  reached  the 
Bradley  house,  Agnes  asked  Lord  Medway  if  he 
would  enter  and  rest  awhile?  And  he  said  he 
would,  and  so  sat  talking  about  the  war  until  it  was 
tea-time  for  the  simple  maidens,  who  ate  their  dinner 
at  twelve  o'clock.  Then  he  saw  Agnes  bring  in  the 


ii2    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

tray,  and  take  out  the  china,  and  lay  the  round  table 
with  a  spotless  nicety ;  and  it  delighted  him  to  watch 
the  homely  scene.  Maria  was  knitting,  and  he 
turned  her  ball  of  pink  yarn  in  his  hands  and 
watched  her  face  glow  and  smile  and  pout  and 
change  with  every  fresh  sentiment.  Or,  if  he  lifted 
his  eyes  from  this  picture,  he  could  look  at  Agnes, 
who  had  pinned  a  clean  napkin  across  her  breast, 
and  was  cutting  bread  and  butter  in  the  wafer  slices 
he  approved.  He  wondered  if  she  would  ask  him 
to  take  tea  with  them;  if  she  did  not  he  was  re 
solved  to  ask  himself.  Then  he  noticed  she  had 
placed  three  cups  on  the  tray,  and  he  was  sure  of  her 
hospitality. 

It  made  him  very  happy,  and  he  never  once  fell 
into  the  affectation  of  talk  and  manner  appropriate 
to  a  fashionable  tea-table.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  both 
the  rebel  sentiments  of  Agnes,  and  the  royalist  tem 
per  of  Maria;  and  he  treated  both  girls  with  such 
hearty  deference  and  respect  as  he  did  not  always 
show  to  much  more  famous  dames.  And  it  was 
while  sitting  at  this  tea-table  he  gave  his  heart  with 
out  reserve  to  Maria  Semple.  If  he  had  any  doubts 
or  withdrawals,  he  abandoned  them  in  that  happy 
hour,  and  said  frankly  to  himself: 

"I  will  make  her  my  wife.  That  is  my  desire 
and  my  resolve;  and  I  will  not  turn  aside  from  it 
for  anything,  nor  for  any  man  living;  Maria  Sem 
ple  is  the  woman  I  love,  no  one  else  shall  have  her." 

In  following  out  this  resolve  he  understood  the 
value  of  Agnes ;  and  he  did  all  he  could  to  gain  her 
good-will.  She  was  well  disposed  to  give  it;  her 
father's  approval  bespoke  hers.  A  feeling  of  good 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          113 


comradeship  and  confidence  grew  rapidly  as  they  ate, 
and  drank  their  tea,  and  talked  freely  and  without 
many  reservations,  for  the  sake  of  their  political 
feelings.  So  much  so,  that  when  Lord  Medway 
rose  to  go,  there  came  to  Agnes  a  sudden  fear  and 
chill.  She  looked  at  him  apprehensively,  and  while 
he  held  her  hand,  she  said : 

"Lord  Medway,  Maria  and  I  have  been  very  sin 
cere  with  you,  but  I  am  sure  our  sincerity  cannot 
wrong  us,  in  your  keeping." 

This  was  not  very  explicit,  but  he  understood  her 
meaning.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  table  at  which 
they  had  eaten,  and  said :  "It  is  an  altar  to  faith  and 
friendship.  When  I  am  capable  of  repeating  any 
thing  said  at  the  table  where  I  sit  as  guest,  I  shall  be 
lost  to  truth  and  honor,  and  be  too  vile  to  remem 
ber."  He  spoke  with  force,  and  with  a  certain  elo 
quence,  very  different  from  his  usual  familiar  man 
ner,  and  both  Agnes  and  Maria  showed  him  in  their 
shining  eyes  and  confiding  air  how  surely  they  be 
lieved  in  him. 

After  this  event  there  was  continual  excitement  in 
the  city,  and  General  Clinton  returned  to  it  at  once. 
He  called  in  the  little  army  he  had  cutting  grass  for 
winter  fodder,  and  with  twenty  thousand  troops  shut 
himself  up  in  New  York. 

"For  once  the  man  has  been  employing  himself 
well  and  wiselike,"  said  Madame  Semple.  "He  has 
cut  all  the  grass,  and  cured  all  the  grass  round  about 
Rye,  and  White  Plains,  and  New  Rochelle,  and  East 
Chester,  and  a  few  other  places ;  and  he  has  left  it  all 
ahint  him.  What  a  wiselike  wonderfu'  man  is  Gen 
eral  Sir  Henry  Clinton!" 


n4    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"And  the  rebels  have  carried  off  the  last  wisp  o' 
hay  he  made,"  said  the  Elder  angrily.  "They  were 
on  the  vera  heels  o'  our  soldiers.  It's  beyond  be 
lieving!  It's  just  the  maist  mortifying  thing  that 
ever  happened  us." 

Madame  looked  pityingly  at  her  husband,  raised 
her  shoulders  to  emphasize  the  look,  and  then  in  a 
thin  voice,  quavering  a  little  with  her  weakness  and 
emotion,  began  to  sing  to  herself  from  that  old  trans 
lation  of  the  Psalms  so  dear  to  every  Scottish  heart : 

"Kings  of  great  armies  foiled  were 

And  forced  to  flee  away ; 
And  women  who  remained  at  home 

Did  distribute  the  prey. 
God's  chariots  twenty  thousand  are, 
Thousands  of  angels  strong." 

"Janet !  Janet !  Will  you  sing  some  kind  o'  calm 
ing  verse  ?  The  Lord  is  naething  but  a  man  of  war 
in  your  thoughts.  Do  you  believe  He  goes  through 
the  earth  wi'  a  bare,  lifted  sword  in  His  hand?" 

"Whiles  He  does,  Alexander.  And  the  light 
from  that  lifted  sword  lightens  the  earth.  I  hae 
tasted  o'  the  goodness  of  the  Lord;  I  know  of  old 
His  tender  mercy,  and  His  loving  kindness,  but  in 
these  awfu'  days,  I  am  right  glad  to  think  o'  Him  as 
The  Lord  of  Hosts!  He  is  sure  to  be  on  the  right 
side,  and  He  can  make  of  one  man  a  thousand,  and 
of  a  handful,  a  great  multitude." 

"It's  a  weary  warld." 

"But  just  yet  there's  nae  better  one,  my  dear  auld 
man !  So  we  may  as  well  tak'  cheerfully  what  good 
comes  to-day,  there  will  be  mair  to-morrow,  or  I'm 
far  wrang." 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          115 

If  Janet's  "to-morrow"  be  taken  as  she  meant  it  to 
be  taken,  her  set  time  was  long  enough  for  other 
startling  events.  Tryon's  expedition  was  ordered 
back  to  New  York,  and  Quentin  Macpherson 
brought  the  news  of  his  own  return.  He  did  not 
meet  with  as  warm  a  welcome  as  he  hoped  for. 
Madame  was  contemptuous  and  indignant  over  the 
ravaging  character  of  the  expedition.  The  Elder 
said  they  had  "alienated  royalists  without  intimidat 
ing  rebels" ;  and  Maria  looked  critically  at  the 
young  soldier,  and  thought  him  less  handsome  than 
she  had  supposed :  the  expedition,  so  cowardly  and 
cruel,  had  been  demoralizing  and  had  left  its  mark  on 
the  young  man.  He  was  disappointed,  jealous,  of 
fended;  he  had  an  overweening  opinion  of  the  no 
bility  of  his  family  and  not  a  very  modest  one  as  to 
his  own  deserts.  He  was  also  tenacious,  and  the 
thing  he  desired  grew  in  value  as  it  receded  from 
his  grasp;  so,  although  angry  at  Maria,  he  had  no 
idea  of  relinquishing  his  suit  for  her  hand. 

She  kept  as  much  as  possible  out  of  his  company, 
and  this  was  not  difficult.  The  troops  were  con 
stantly  on  the  alert,  for  one  piece  of  bad  news,  for 
the  royalists,  followed  another,  A  month  after  the 
capture  of  Stony  Point,  the  rebels  took  Paulus  Hook 
in  a  midnight  attack.  This  fort  had  been  most  tena 
ciously  held  by  the  English  from  the  earliest  days  of 
the  war,  it  being  the  only  safe  landing-place  in  Jer 
sey  for  their  foraging  parties.  It  was  within  sight 
of  New  York,  and  almost  within  reach  of  its  guns. 
The  shame  and  anger  of  the  royalist  burghers  was 
unspeakable;  they  would  have  openly  insulted  the 
military,  if  they  had  dared  to  do  so. 


n6    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

About  two  weeks  later  came  the  news  of  Sulli 
van's  sweeping  victory  over  the  Six  Nations  of  In 
dians  under  Sir  John  Johnson  and  the  Indian  Chief, 
Brandt.  The  Americans  turned  their  country  into 
a  desert,  and  drove  the  whole  people  in  headlong 
flight  as  far  as  Niagara.  This  Autumn  also  was 
rendered  remarkable  by  the  astonishing  success  of 
the  American  privateers;  never  had  they  been  at 
once  so  troublesome  and  so  fortunate.  So  that  there 
was  plenty  for  every  one  to  talk  about,  if  there  had 
been  neither  lovers  nor  love-making  in  the  land. 
But  it  seemed  as  if  Love  regarded  the  movement  of 
great  armies  and  the  diplomacies  of  great  nations, 
as  the  proper  background  and  vehicles  for  his  ex 
pression.  While  Medway  was  talking,  or  fishing, 
or  hunting  with  Clinton,  he  was  thinking  of  Maria. 
While  Macpherson  was  inspecting  his  company,  he 
was  thinking  of  Maria.  While  Harry  was  travers 
ing  the  woods  and  the  waters,  he  was  thinking  of 
Maria.  And  while  Neil  Semple  was  drawing  out 
titles,  and  making  arguments  in  Court,  he  was  al 
ways  conscious  of  the  fact  that  his  happiness  was 
bound  up  in  the  love  of  Agnes  Bradley.  On  every 
side  also,  other  lovers  were  wooing  and  wedding. 
The  sound  of  trumpets  did  not  sadden  the  music  of 
the  marriage  feast,  nor  did  the  bridal  dance  tarry  a 
moment  for  the  tramp  of  marching  soldiers.  All  the 
chances  and  changes  of  war  were  but  ministers  of 
Love,  and  did  his  pleasure. 

In  the  meantime  John  Bradley  was  stitching  his 
saddles,  and  praying  and  working  for  Washington, 
the  idol  of  his  hopes,  quite  unconscious  of  how  com 
pletely  his  home  had  been  confiscated  to  the  service 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          117 

of  love  and  lovers.  No  house  in  all  the  restless  city 
seemed  less  likely  to  be  the  rendezvous  of  meeting 
hearts ;  and  yet  quite  naturally,  and  by  the  force  of 
the  simplest  circumstances,  it  had  assumed  this  char 
acter.  It  began  with  Maria.  Her  beauty  and 
charm  had  given  her  three  lovers,  who  were,  all  of 
them,  men  with  sufficient  character  to  find,  or  to 
make  a  way  to  her  presence.  But  every  movement, 
whether  of  the  body  or  the  soul,  takes,  by  a  certain 
law,  the  direction  in  which  there  is  the  least  resist 
ance;  and  the  road  of  least  resistance  to  Maria,  was 
by  way  of  Agnes  Bradley. 

At  the  Semple  house,  Madame  was  a  barrier  Med- 
way  could  not  pass.  She  told  Maria  plainly,  "no 
English  lord  should  cross  her  doorstep."  She  could 
not  believe  in  his  good  heart,  or  his  good  sense,  and 
she  asked  scornfully,  "how  a  close  friend  of  General 
Clinton's  could  be  fit  company  for  an  American  girl? 
He  has  nae  charm  for  touching  pitch  without  being 
defiled,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  not  hae  him  sitting  on 
my  chairs,  and  putting  his  feet  on  my  hearth,  and 
fleching  and  flattering  you  in  my  house  while  my 
name  is  Janet  Semple.  And  you  may  tell  him  I 
said  so." 

And  in  order  to  prevent  Madame  giving  her  own 
message,  Maria  was  compelled  to  confess  to  Lord 
Medway,  her  grandmother's  antagonism.  He  was 
politely  sorry  for  her  dislike  to  Englishmen — 'for  he 
preferred  to  accept  it  as  a  national,  rather  than  a 
personal  feeling;  but  it  did  not  interfere  with  his 
intentions.  There  was  Miss  Bradley.  She  had  a 
kind  feeling  toward  him,  and  Maria  spent  a  large 
part  of  every  day  with  her  friend.  By  calling  on 


n8    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

Miss  Bradley  he  could  see  Miss  Semple.  As  the 
best  means  toward  this  end  he  cultivated  Agnes 
through  her  father.  He  talked  with  him,  listened  to 
his  experiences,  and  gave  him  subscriptions  for 
Wesley  Chapel,  and  for  the  prisoners  he  could  find 
means  to  help.  He  made  such  a  good  impression  on 
John  Bradley,  that  he  told  his  daughter  he  felt  sure 
the  good  seed  he  had  sown  would  bring  forth  good 
fruit  in  its  season. 

Macpherson  had  a  certain  welcome  at  the  Sem- 
ples,  but  he  could  not  strain  it.  Madame  was  not 
well,  company  fatigued  her,  and,  though  he  did  not 
suspect  this  reason,  she  was  feeling  bitterly  that  she 
must  give  up  her  life-long  hospitality — she  could  not 
afford  to  be  hospitable  any  longer.  She  did  not  tell 
Maria  this,  she  said  rather,  "the  laddie  wearied  her 
mair  than  once  a  week.  She  wasna  strong,  and  she 
didna  approve  o'  his  excuses  for  General  Clinton.  I 
could  tear  them  all  to  ravlins,"  she  said,  angrily, 
"but  I  wad  tear  mysel'  to  pieces  doing  it.  He  has 
the  reiving,  reiving  Highland  spirit,  and  nae  won 
der  !  The  Macphersons  have  carried  fire  and  sword 
for  centuries." 

As  for  Harry  Deane,  he,  of  course,  could  not  come 
at  all,  though  Madame  might  have  borne  him  more 
than  once  a  week,  if  she  had  been  trusted.  But 
Harry  was  as  uncertain  as  the  wind.  He  came  when 
no  one  looked  for  him,  and  when  he  was  expected, 
he  was  miles  away.  So  there  was  no  possible  neu 
tral  ground  for  Love  but  such  as  Agnes  in  her  good 
nature  and  wisdom  would  allow.  But  Agnes  was 
not  difficult.  Neil  Semple  had  taught  her  the  sweet 
ness  and  clemency  of  love,  and  she  would  not  de- 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          119 

prive  Maria  of  those  pleasant  hours,  with  which  so 
many  days  were  brightened  that  would  otherwise 
have  been  dull  and  monotonous.  For,  during  the 
summer's  heat  the  royalist  families,  who  could  af 
ford  to  do  so,  left  the  city,  and  the  little  tea  parties  at 
Agnes  Bradley 's  were  nearly  the  only  entertainment 
at  Maria's  command. 

These  were  informal  and  often  delightful.  Lord 
Medway  knew  that  about  five  o'clock  Agnes  would 
be  setting  the  tea-tray,  and  he  liked  to  sit  beside 
Maria  and  watch  her  do  it.  And  sometimes  Maria 
made  the  tea,  and  poured  his  out,  and  put  in  the 
sugar  and  cream  with  such  enchanting  smiles  and 
ways  that  he  vowed  never  tea  in  this  world  tasted  so 
refreshing  and  delicious.  And  not  infrequently 
Quentin  Macpherson  would  come  clattering  in  when 
the  meal  had  begun,  take  a  chair  at  the  round  table, 
and  drinking  his  tea  a  little  awkwardly,  soothe  his 
self-esteem  by  an  aggressive  self-importance.  For 
Lord  Med way's  nonchalant  manner  provoked  him 
to  such  personal  assertion  as  always  mortified  when 
the  occasion  was  over.  About  half-past  seven  was 
Neil's  hour,  and  then  the  conversation  became  gen 
eral,  and  love  found  all  sorts  of  tender  occasions; 
every  glance  of  meeting  eyes,  and  every  clasp  of 
meeting  hands,  bearing  the  one  sweet  message,  "I 
love  you,  dear !" 

It  was  usually  in  the  morning  that  Harry  came 
springing  up  the  garden  path.  There  was  neither 
work  nor  lessons  that  day,  nor  any  pretense  of  them. 
Harry  had  too  much  to  tell,  and  both  Agnes  and 
Maria  hung  upon  his  words  as  if  they  held  the  secret 
of  life  and  happiness.  Now,  granted  two  beautiful 


120    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

girls  with  a  moderate  amount  of  freedom,  and  four 
lovers  in  that  pleasantly  painful  condition  between 
hope  and  fear  that  people  in  love  make,  if  it  is  not 
made  for  them,  and  put  all  in  a  position  where  they 
have  the  accessories  of  sunlight  and  moonlight,  a 
shady  garden,  a  noble  river,  the  scent  of  flowers,  the 
goodness  of  fine  fruit,  the  pleasures  of  the  tea-table, 
and  if  these  young  people  do  not  advance  in  the 
sweet  study  their  hearts  set  them,  they  must  be  either 
coldly  indifferent,  or  stupidly  selfish. 

This  company  of  lovers  was  however  neither  stu 
pid  nor  selfish.  In  the  midst  of  war's  alarms,  while 
fleets  and  armies  were  gathering  for  battle,  they 
were  attending  very  faithfully  to  their  own  little 
drama.  Quentin  Macpherson  had  one  advantage 
over  both  his  rivals:  he  went  to  the  Semple  house 
every  Sunday  evening,  and  then  he  had  Maria 
wholly  under  his  influence.  He  walked  in  the  gar 
den  with  her,  she  made  his  tea  for  him,  he  sat  by  her 
side  during  the  evening  exercise,  sung  the  psalm 
from  the  same  Bible,  and  then,  rising  with  the  fam 
ily,  stood,  as  one  of  them,  while  the  Elder  offered  his 
anxious  yet  trustful  prayer.  It  was  Madame  who 
had  thought  of  connecting  this  service  with  the 
young  soldier.  "It  is  little  good  he  can  get  from 
thae  Episcopals,"  she  said,  "and  it's  your  duty,  Al 
exander,  to  gie  him  a  word  in  season,"  and  though 
Macpherson  was  mainly  occupied  in  watching 
Maria,  and  listening  to  her  voice,  he  had  been  too 
well  grounded  in  his  faith  not  to  be  sensible  of  the 
sacredness  of  those  few  minutes,  and  to  be  insensibly 
influenced  by  their  spirit. 

Neil  was  never  present.     When  the  tea-table  was 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          121 

cleared,  he  went  quietly  out,  and  those  who  cared  to 
follow  him  would  have  been  led  to  the  little  Wesley- 
an  Chapel  on  John  Street.  He  always  took  the  same 
seat  in  a  pew  near  the  door,  and  there  he  worshipped 
for  an  hour  or  two  the  beautiful  daughter  of  John 
Bradley.  He  was  present  to  watch  them  enter. 
Sometimes  the  father  went  to  the  pulpit,  sometimes 
he  went  with  Agnes  to  the  singing-pew.  And  to 
hear  these  two  translating  into  triumphant  song  the 
holy  aspirations  and  longings  of  Watts  and  Wes 
ley,  was  reason  enough  for  any  one  who  loved  music 
to  be  in  Wesley  Chapel  when  they  were  singing  to 
gether. 

All  who  have  ever  loved,  all  who  yet  dream  of 
love,  can  tell  the  further  story  of  those  summer  days 
for  themselves.  They  have  only  to  keep  in  mind 
that  it  had  a  constant  obligato  of  trumpets  and 
drums  and  marching  men,  and  a  constant  refrain, 
made  up  of  all  the  rumors  of  war,  victory,  and  de 
feat  ;  good  news  and  bad  news,  fear,  and  hope,  and 
sighing  despair.  At  length  the  warm  weather  gave 
place  to  the  dreamy  hours  of  the  Indian  summer.  A 
heavenly  veil  of  silvery  haze  lay  over  the  river  and 
the  city ;  a  veil  which  seemed  to  deaden  every  sound 
but  the  shrill  chirping  of  the  crickets ;  and  a  certain 
sense  of  peace  calmed  for  a  short  time  the  most  rest 
less  hearts.  The  families  who  had  been  at  various 
places  during  the  hot  months  returned  to  their  homes 
in  New  York,  with  fresh  dreams  of  conquest  and 
pleasure,  for  as  yet  the  terrors  of  the  coming  winter 
were  not  taken  into  thought  or  account.  The  war 
was  always  going  to  be  "over  very  soon,"  and  Gen 
eral  Clinton  assured  the  butterflies  of  his  military 


122    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

court  they  might  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  he 
intended  at  once  to  "strike  such  a  blow  as  would  put 
an  end  to  confederated  rebellion  for  ever.''  And 
they  gladly  believed  him. 

In  less  than  a  week  Maria  received  half-a-dozen 
invitations  to  dinners,  dances,  card  parties,  and 
musical  recitations.  She  began  at  once  to  look  over 
her  gowns,  and  Agnes  came  every  day  to  the  Sem- 
ple  house  to  assist  in  remodeling  and  retrimming 
them.  They  were  delightful  days  long  to  be  re 
membered.  Both  the  Elder  and  Madame  enjoyed 
them  quite  as  much  as  the  girls;  and  even  Neil  en 
tered  into  the  discussions  about  colors,  and  the  suit 
ability  of  guimpes  and  fringes,  with  a  smiling  grav 
ity  that  was  very  attractive. 

"Uncle  Neil  thinks  he  is  taking  depositions  and 
weighing  evidence;  see  how  the  claims  of  pink  and 
amber  perplex  him !"  and  then  Neil  would  laugh  a 
little,  and  decide  in  such  haste  that  he  generally  con 
tradicted  his  first  opinion. 

The  Sunday  in  this  happy  week  was  made  memo 
rable  by  the  news  which  Quentin  Macpherson 
brought.  "Some  one,"  he  said,  "had  whispered  to 
General  Clinton  that  it  was  the  intention  of  Wash 
ington  to  unite  with  the  French  army  and  besiege 
New  York,  and  Clinton  had  immediately  ordered 
the  troops  garrisoning  Rhode  Island  to  return  to  the 
city  with  all  possible  speed.  And  would  you  be 
lieve  it,  Elder?"  said  the  young  soldier,  "they  came 
so  hastily  that  they  left  behind  them  all  the  wood 
they  had  cut  for  winter,  and  all  the  forage  and  stores 
provided  for  six  thousand  men.  No  sooner  were 
they  out  of  sight  than  the  American  army  slipped  in 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          123 

and  took  possession  of  everything;  and  now  it  ap 
pears  that  it  was  a  false  report — the  general  is  furi 
ous,  and  is  looking  for  the  author  of  it." 

"He  needna  look  very  far,"  answered  Semple. 
"There  is  a  man  that  dips  his  sop  in  the  dish  wi'  him, 
and  that  coils  him  round  his  finger  wi'  a  mouthful 
o'  words,  wha  could  maist  likely  give  him  the  whole 
history  o'  the  matter,  for  he'll  be  at  the  vera  begin 
ning  o'  it." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  our  Commander- 
in-Chief  has  a  traitor  for  his  friend  and  confident 
and  adviser?" 

"I  mean  to  say  all  o'  that.  But  where  will  you 
go  and  not  find  Washington's  emissaries  beguiling 
thae  stupid  English  ?" 

"You  cannot  call  the  English  stupid,  sir." 

"I  can  and  I  will.  They  are  sae  sure  o'  their  ain 
power  and  wisdom  that  they  are  mair  than  stupid. 
They  are  ridic'lus.  It  makes  them  the  easy  tools  of 
every  clever  American  that  is  willing  to  take  a  risk 
— and  they  maist  o'  them  are  willing." 

"But  when  the  English  realize — 

"Aye,  when  they  realize !" 

"Well,  sir,  they  came  to  realization  last  month 
splendidly  in  that  encounter  with  the  privateer,  Paul 
Jones.  It  was  the  grandest  seafight  ever  made  be 
tween  seadogs  of  the  same  breed.  Why,  the  muz 
zles  of  their  guns  touched  each  other ;  the  ships  were 
nearly  torn  to  pieces,  and  three-fourths  of  the  men 
killed  or  wounded.  Gentlemen,  too,  as  well  as 
fighters  though  but  lowborn  men,  for  I  am  told  they 
began  the  combat  with  a  courtesy  worthy  of  the 
days  of  chivalry.  Both  captains  bowed  and  re- 


i24    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

mained  uncovered  until  the  foremost  guns  of  the 
English  ship  bore  on  the  starboard  quarter  of  the 
American.  Then  Captain  Paul  Jones  put  on  his 
hat,  as  a  sign  that  formalities  were  over,  and  the 
battle  began,  and  raged  until  the  English  ship  was 
sinking;  then  she  surrendered." 

"Mair's  the  pity!"  said  the  Elder,  "she  ought  to 
have  gone  down  fighting." 

"She  saved  the  great  fleet  of  merchantmen  she 
was  convoying  from  the  Baltic ;  while  she  was  fight 
ing  the  American  every  one  of  them  got  safe  away 
and  into  port,  and  the  American  ship  went  down  two 
days  afterward — literally  died  of  her  wounds  and 
went  down  to  her  grave.  And  by  the  bye,  Mr.  Sem- 
ple,  this  Paul  Jones  is  a  countryman  of  ours — a 
Scotchman." 

"Aye,  is  he! — from  Kirkcudbright.  I  was  told 
he  had  an  intention  o'  sacking  Edinburgh.  Fair, 
perfect  nonsense!" 

"An  old  friend  of  the  Macphersons — Stuart  of 
Invernalyle — was  sought  out  to  defend  the  town.  I 
had  a  letter  from  the  family." 

"Weel,  Stuart  could  tak'  that  job  easy.  The 
west  wind  is  a  vera  reliable  one  in  the  Firth  o' 
Edinburgh,  and  it  is  weel  able,  and  extremely  likely, 
to  defend  its  ain  city.  In  fact,  it  did  do  so,  for  Paul 
couldna  win  near,  and  so  he  went  'north  about'  and 
found  the  Baltic  fleet  with  the  Serapis  guarding  it. 
Weel,  then,  he  had  his  fight,  though  he  lost  the  plun 
der.  But  it  was  a  ridic'lus  thing  in  any  mortal,  men 
acing  the  capital  o'  Scotland  wi'  three  brigs  that 
couldna  have  sacked  a  Fife  fishing  village!  And 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          125 

what  is  mair,"  added  the  old  man  with  a  tear  glisten 
ing  in  his  eyes,  "he  wouldna  have  hurt  Leith  or  Edin 
burgh.  Not  he!  Scots  may  love  America,  but 
they  never  hate  their  ain  dear  Scotland ;  they  would 
na  hurt  the  old  land,  not  even  in  thought.  If  put 
to  the  question,  all  o'  them  would  say,  as  David  o' 
Israel  and  David  o'  Scotland  baith  said,  'let  my  right 
hand  forget  its  cunning —  '  you  ken  the  rest,  and 
if  you  don't,  it  will  do  you  good  to  look  up  the  13 7th 
Psalm." 

The  stir  of  admiration  concerning  these  and  other 
events — all  favorable  to  the  Americans — irritated 
General  Clinton  and  made  him  much  less  courteous 
in  his  manner  to  both  friends  and  foes.  And,  more 
over,  it  was  not  pleasant  for  him  to  know  that  Gen 
eral  Washington  was  entertaining  the  first  French 
Minister  to  the  United  States  at  Newburgh,  and  that 
John  Jay  was  then  on  his  way  to  Madrid  to  com 
plete  with  the  Spanish  government  terms  of  recog 
nition  and  alliance.  So  that  even  through  the  calm 
ness  of  these  Indian  summer  days  there  were  defi 
nite  echoes  of  defeat  and  triumph,  whether  ex 
pressed  publicly  or  discussed  so  privately  that  the 
bird  of  the  air  found  no  whisper  to  carry. 

One  day  at  the  end  of  October,  Agnes  did  not 
come  until  the  afternoon,  and  Maria  rightly  judged 
that  Harry  was  in  New  York.  There  was  no  need 
to  tell  her  so,  the  knowledge  was  an  intuition,  and 
when  Agnes  said  to  Madame,  "she  had  a  friend,  and 
would  like  Maria  to  bring  the  pelerine  they  were  re- 
trimming  to  her  house,  and  spend  the  evening  with 
her,"  no  objection  was  made.  "I  shall  miss  you 


126    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

baith ;  so  will  the  Elder,"  she  answered,  "but  I  dare 
say  that  English  lord  is  feeling  I  have  had  mair  than 
my  share  o'  your  company." 

"Oh,  Madame!"  said  Agnes,  "it  is  not  the  Eng 
lish  lord,  it  is  a  true  American  boy  from — up  the 
river,"  and  Agnes  opened  her  eyes  wide  as  she  lifted 
them  to  Madame's,  and  there  was  some  sort  of  in 
stantaneous  and  satisfactory  understanding.  Then 
she  added,  "Will  you  ask  Mr.  Neil  Semple  to  come 
for  Maria  about  eight  o'clock?" 

"There  will  be  nae  necessity  to  ask  him.  His  feet 
o'  their  ain  accord  will  find  their  way  to  your  house, 
Agnes,"  said  Madame.  "Before  he  has  told  himsel' 
where  he  is  going  he  will  be  at  your  doorstep.  He 
must  be  very  fond  o'  his  niece  Maria — or  of  some 
body  else,"  and  the  old  lady  smiled  pleasantly  at 
the  blushing  girl.  Then  both  girls  kissed  Madame 
and  stopped  at  the  garden  gate  to  speak  to  the  Elder, 
and  so  down  the  road  together  full  of  happy  expecta 
tion,  divining  nothing  of  One  who  went  forth  with 
them.  How  should  they?  Neither  had  ever  seen 
the  face  of  sorrow  or  broke  with  her  the  ashen  crust. 
They  were  not  aware  of  her  presence  and  they  heard 
not  the  stir  of  her  black  mantle  trailing  upon  the  dust 
and  the  dead  leaves  as  she  walked  at  their  side. 

"Harry  will  be  here  for  tea,"  said  Agnes,  when 
they  reached  the  house,  and  a  soft,  delightful  sense 
of  pleasure  to  come  pervaded  the  room  as  they  sat 
sewing  and  talking  until  it  was  time  to  set  the  table. 
And  as  soon  as  Agnes  began  this  duty  there  was  a 
peculiar  whistle,  and  Maria  glanced  at  Agnes,  threw 
aside  her  work,  and  went  down  the  garden  to  meet 
her  lover.  He  was  tying  his  boat  to  the  little  jetty, 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          127 

and  when  the  duty  was  done  they  sat  down  on  the 
wooden  steps  and  talked  of  this,  and  that,  and  of 
everything  but  love,  arid  yet  everything  they  said 
was  a  confession  of  their  interest  in  each  other.  But 
the  truest  love  has  often  the  least  to  say,  and  those 
lovers  are  to  be  doubted  and  pitied  who  must  always 
be  seeking  assurances,  for  thus  they  sow  the  path  of 
love  with  thorns.  Far  happier  are  they  who  leave 
something  unsaid,  who  dare  to  enter  into  that  living 
silence  which  clasps  hearts  like  a  book  of  songs  un 
sung.  They  will  sing  them  all,  but  not  all  at  once. 
One  by  one,  as  their  hour  comes,  they  will  learn  them 
together. 

That  calm,  sweet  afternoon  was  provocative  of 
this  very  mood.  Maria  and  Harry  sat  watching 
the  river  rocking  the  boat,  and  listening  to  the  chir 
ruping  of  the  crickets,  and  both  were  satisfied  with 
their  own  silence.  It  was  a  heavenly  hour,  hushed 
and  halcyon,  full  of  that  lazy  happiness  which  is  the 
most  complete  expression  of  perfect  love.  When 
Agnes  called,  they  walked  hand  in  hand  up  the  gar 
den,  and  at  the  tea-table  came  back  again  into  the 
world.  Harry  had  much  to  tell  them,  and  was  full 
of  confidence  in  the  early  triumph  of  the  Americans. 

"Then  I  hope  we  shall  have  peace,  and  all  be 
friends  again,"  said  Maria.  She  spoke  a  little  wear 
ily,  as  if  she  had  no  faith  in  her  words,  and  Harry 
answered  her  doubt  rather  than  her  hope. 

"There  will  not  be  much  friendship  this  genera 
tion,"  he  said ;  "things  have  happened  between  Eng 
land  and  America  which  men  will  remember  until 
they  forget  themselves." 

After  tea,  Harry  said,  "Maria  is  going  with  me 


128    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

to  the  river  to  see  if  the  boat  is  safe,"  and  Agnes, 
smiling,  watched  them  a  little  way;  then  turned 
again  to  her  china,  and  without  any  conscious  appli 
cation  began  to  sing  softly  the  aria  of  an  old  English 
anthem  by  King : 

"I  went  down  into  the  garden  of  nuts,  to  see 
whether  the  pomegranates  budded — to  see  whether 
the  pomegranates — the  pomegranates  budded,"  *  but 
suddenly,  even  as  her  voice  rose  and  fell  sweetly  to 
her  thoughts,  a  strange  chill  arrested  the  flow  of  the 
melody;  and  she  was  angry  at  herself  because  she 
had  inadvertently  wondered,  "if  the  buds  would  ever 
open  full  and  flowerwise?" 

In  about  half  an  hour  Agnes,  having  finished  her 
house  duties,  went  to  the  door  opening  into  the  gar 
den  and  called  Harry  and  Maria.  They  turned  to 
ward  the  house  when  they  heard  her  voice,  and  she 
remained  in  the  open  door  to  watch  them  come 
through  the  tall  box-shrubs  and  the  many-colored 
asters.  And  as  she  did  so,  Quentin  Macpherson 
reached  the  front  door — which  also  stood  open — and 
perceiving  Agnes,  he  did  not  knock,  but  waited  for 
her  to  turn  inward.  Consequently  he  saw  Harry 
and  Maria,  and  did  not  fail  to  notice  the  terms  of 
affectionate  familiarity  between  them.  The  fire  of 
jealousy  was  kindled  in  a  moment;  he  strode  for 
ward  to  meet  the  company,  and  was  received  with 
the  usual  friendly  welcome ;  for  such  a  situation  had 
often  been  spoken  of  as  possible,  and  Agnes  was  not 
in  the  least  disconcerted. 

"My  friend,  Mr.  Harry  Deane,  Captain  Macpher 
son,"  she  said,  without  hesitation,  and  the  Captain 
*  "Solomon's  Song,"  6:  n. 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          129 

received  the  introduction  with  his  most  military  air. 
Then  Agnes  set  herself  to  keep  the  conversation 
away  from  the  war,  but  that  was  an  impossible 
thing;  .every  incident  of  life  somehow  or  other 
touched  it,  and  before  she  realized  the  fact,  Harry 
was  deprecating  Tryon's  outrages  in  Connecticut, 
and  Macpherson  defending  them  on  the  ground  that 
"the  towns  destroyed  had  fitted  out  most  of  the 
privateers  which  had  so  seriously  interfered  with 
English  commerce.  Both  the  building  of  the  ships 
and  the  destruction  of  the  towns  for  building  them 
are  natural  incidents  of  war,"  he  said,  and  then 
pointedly,  "perhaps  you  are  a  native  of  Connecti 
cut?" 

"No,"  answered  Harry,  "I  am  a  native  of  New 
York." 

"Ah !     I  have  not  met  you  before." 

"I  am  a  great  deal  away—  '  then  receiving 
from  Agnes  a  look  of  anxious  warning,  he  thought 
it  best  to  take  his  leave.  Agnes  rose  and  went  to 
the  door  with  him,  and  Maria  wished  Captain  Mac 
pherson  anywhere  but  in  her  society;  especially  as 
he  began  to  ask  her  questions  she  did  not  wish  to 
answer. 

"So  Miss  Bradley  has  a  lover?"  he  said,  looking 
pointedly  at  the  couple  as  they  left  the  room. 

"I  used  to  think  so  once,"  answered  Maria. 

"But  not  now?" 

"But  not  now.  Mr.  Deane  is  an  old  friend,  a 
playmate  even." 

"I  suppose  he  is  a  King's  man?" 

"Ask  him ;  he  is  still  standing  at  the  gate.  I  talk 
to  him  on  much  pleasanter  subjects." 


ijo    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

"Love,  for  instance?" 

"Perhaps." 

"How  can  you  be  so  cruel,  Maria?" 

"It  is  Miss  Semple's  nature  to  be  cruel." 

The  reproof  snubbed  him,  and  both  were  silent 
for  some  minutes;  then  the  same  kind  of  desultory 
fencing  was  renewed,  and  Maria  felt  the  time  to  be 
long  and  the  tension  unendurable.  She  could  have 
cried  out  with  anger.  Why  had  not  Agnes  let  her 
go  to  the  door  with  Harry  ?  She  had  had  no  oppor 
tunity  to  bid  him  "good-bye" ;  and  yet,  even  after 
Harry  had  gone,  there  Agnes  stood  at  the  gate, 
"watching  for  Uncle  Neil,  of  course,"  thought 
Maria,  "and  no  doubt  she  has  a  message  for  me ;  she 
might  come  and  give  it  to  me — very  likely  Harry  is 
at  the  boat  waiting  for  me — oh,  dear!  Why  does 
she  not  come?" 

With  such  thoughts  urging  her,  the  very  attitude 
of  Agnes  was  beyond  endurance.  She  stood  at  the 
gate  as  still  as  if  she  was  a  part  of  it,  and  at  length 
Maria  could  bear  the  delay  no  longer. 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  Agnes,"  she  said,  "will  you 
permit  me  a  moment?" 

"Certainly,"  he  answered  with  an  air  of  offense. 
"I  fear  I  am  in  the  way  of  some  one  or  something." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  cried  Maria,  decisively.  "I  only 
want  to  make  her  come  in.  She  says  the  night  air 
is  so  unhealthy,  and  yet  there  she  stands  in  it — 
bareheaded,  too." 

"It  is  an  unusually  warm  evening." 

"Yes,  but  you  know  there  is  the  malaria.  I  shall 
bring  her  in  a  moment,  you  shall  see  how  quickly  I 
am  obeyed." 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          13 T 

In  unison  with  these  words,  she  rose  in  a  hurry, 
and  as  she  did  so  there  came  through  the  open  win 
dow  a  little  stone  wrapped  in  white  paper.  If  she 
had  not  moved,  it  would  have  fallen  into  her  lap; 
as  it  was,  it  fell  on  the  floor  and  almost  at  the  feet 
of  Macpherson.  He  lifted  it,  and  went  to  the  can 
dle.  It  was  a  message,  as  he  expected,  and  read 
thus: 

"Keep  that  Scot  amused  for  an  hour,  and  meet  me 
at  Semple's  landing  at  nine  o'clock.  Harry. 

"Oh !  Oh !"  he  said  with  an  intense  inward  pas 
sion.  "I  am  to  be  amused!  I  am  to  be  cajoled! 
deceived !  that  Scot  is  to  be  used  for  some  purpose, 
and  by  St.  Andrew,  I'll  wager  it  is  treason.  This 
affair  must  be  looked  into — quick,  too."  With  this 
thought  he  put  the  paper  in  his  pocket,  and  followed 
Maria  to  the  gate  where  she  stood  talking  with 
Agnes. 

"I  will  bid  you  good-night,"  he  said  with  a  pur 
posed  air  of  offense.  I  am  sure  that  I  am  an  in 
truder  on  more  welcome  company." 

He  would  listen  to  no  explanations  or  requests. 
Maria  became  suddenly  kind,  and  assumed  the  pret 
tiest  of  her  coaxing  ways,  but  he  knew  she  was 
only  "amusing"  him,  and  he  would  not  respond  to 
what  he  considered  her  base,  alluring  treachery. 

"There,  now,  Maria!  You  have  been  very  fool 
ish,"  said  Agnes.  "Captain  Macpherson  is  angry. 
You  ought  to  have  been  particularly  kind  to  him  to 
night — after  Harry." 

"You  were  so  selfish,  Agnes — so  unreasonably 
selfish !  You  might  have  let  me  go  to  the  gate  with 
Harry.  I  never  had  a  chance  to  say  'good-bye'  to 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


him  ;  there  you  stood,  watching  for  Uncle  Neil,  and 
I  was  on  pins  and  needles  of  anxiety.  Why  didn't 
you  stay  with  the  man,  and  let  me  go  to  the  gate?" 

"If  you  must  know  why;  I  had  some  money  to 
give  Harry.  Could  I  do  that  before  Captain  Mac- 
pherson?" 

"I  hate  the  man  !  I  am  glad  he  has  gone  !  I  hope 
he  will  never  come  again  !" 

"I  do  not  think  he  will,  Maria." 

They  went  into  the  house  thoroughly  vexed  with 
each  other,  and  Maria  said  in  a  tone  of  pique  or  of 
fense,  "I  wonder  what  delays  my  uncle!  I  wish  he 
would  come!" 

In  reality  Neil  was  no  later  than  usual,  but  Maria 
was  quivering  with  disappointment  and  annoyance, 
and  when  he  did  arrive  it  was  not  possible  for  any 
one  to  escape  the  influence  of  an  atmosphere  charged 
with  the  miserable  elements  of  frustrated  happiness. 
Maria  was  not  a  girl  to  bear  disagreeable  things 
alone  or  in  silence.  She  would  talk  only  of  Mac- 
pherson  and  his  unwelcome  visit;  "but  he  always 
did  come  when  he  was  not  wanted,"  she  said  angrily. 
"Last  Sunday  when  grandmother  was  sick,  and  I 
was  writing  a  long  letter  to  father,  and  nobody  cared 
to  see  him  at  all,  enter  Captain  Macpherson  with  his 
satisfied  smile,  and  his  clattering  sword,  and  his  pro 
voking  air  of  conferring  a  favor  on  us  by  his  com 
pany.  I  hate  the  creature!  And  I  think  it  is  a 
dreadful  thing  to  make  set  days  for  people's  visits; 
we  have  all  got  to  dislike  Sunday  afternoons,  just 
for  his  sake!"  and  so  on,  with  constant  variations. 

Fortunately  Mr.  Bradley  came  home  soon  after 
eight  o'clock,  and  Maria  would  not  make  any  fur- 


LOVE'S  SWEET  DREAM          133 

ther  delay.  She  had  many  reasons  for  her  hurry, 
but  undoubtedly  the  chief  one,  was  a  feeling  that 
Agnes  ought  not  to  have  the  pleasure  of  a  conversa 
tion  between  her  father  and  her  lover,  and  probably 
a  walk  home  with  her,  and  then  a  walk  back  with 
Neil  alone.  She  would  go  at  once,  and  she  would 
not  ask  Agnes  to  go  with  her.  If  she  was  disap 
pointed,  it  was  only  a  just  retribution  for  her  selfish 
ness  about  Harry.  And  though  she  noticed  Agnes 
was  depressed  and  cast  down,  she  was  not  appeased  ; 
"However,  I  will  come  in  the  morning  and  make  all 
right,"  she  thought;  "to-night  Agnes  may  suffer  a 
little.  I  will  come  in  the  morning  and  make  all 
right." 

Yes,  she  would  come  in  the  morning,  but  little  she 
dreamed  on  what  errand  she  would  come.  Still, 
Maria  is  not  to  be  blamed  over  much ;  there  is  some 
truth  in  every  reproach  that  is  made. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  INTERCEPTED   MESSAGE. 

WHILE  this  unhappy  interlude  was  passing,  a  far 
greater  sorrow  was  preparing.  Captain  Macpher- 
son  went  at  once  to  his  colonel  with  the  pebble-sent 
note.  He  told  himself  that  his  duty  to  his  King 
and  his  colors  demanded  it,  and  that  no  harm  could 
come  to  the  two  women  except  such  as  was  reflected 
from  the  trouble  that  saucy  young  man  might  be 
entitled  to.  He  had  no  objections  to  giving  him 
trouble;  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  made  to  under 
stand  a  little  better  what  was  due  to  an  officer  of 
the  King.  "That  Scot!"  He  flung  his  plaid  pas 
sionately  over  his  shoulder  and  stamped  his  foot 
with  the  offended  temper  of  centuries  of  Macpher- 
sons.  As  for  Maria,  he  would  not  think  of  her. 
He  could  not  know  what  the  consequences  of  the 
interrupted  tryst  would  be,  but  let  her  take  them! 
A  girl  who  could  prefer  quite  a  common-looking 
young  man  to  himself  needed  a  lesson.  He  said 
over  and  over  that  he  had  only  done  a  duty  he  would 
have  performed  under  any  circumstances;  and  he 
kept  reiterating  the  word  "duty," — still  he  knew 
right  well  that  duty  in  this  case  had  been  powerfully 
seconded  by  jealousy  and  by  his  personal  offense. 

What  action  his  colonel  would  take  he  knew  not. 
He  desired  to  be  excused  from  any  part  in  it,  be- 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    135 

cause  of  the  Semple's  hospitality  to  him.  His  request 
was  granted;  and  then  he  went  to  his  rooms  hot 
with  uncertain  excitement.  The  colonel  had  no 
sentimental  reasons  for  ignoring  what  might  prove 
a  valuable  arrest.  Nothing  had  provoked  General 
Clinton  more  than  the  ubiquitous  nature  of  Wash 
ington's  spies.  They  were  everywhere;  they  were 
untiring,  unceasing  and  undaunted.  The  late  re 
verses,  which  had  mortified  every  English  soldier, 
had  been  undoubtedly  brought  about  by  the  false 
reports  they  spread, — no  one  knew  by  whose  assist 
ance, — and  this  night  might  be  a  turning-point  in 
affairs. 

He  ordered  ten  picked  men  to  wait  for  the  boat 
at  Semple's  landing.  The  place  was  easily  reached ; 
they  had  but  to  walk  to  the  bottom  of  the  fence, 
climb  over  it,  and  secrete  themselves  in  the  little  boat- 
house,  or  among  the  shrubbery,  if  it  had  yet  foliage 
enough  to  screen  them.  He  looked  over  his  roll 
of  suspects  and  found  Madame  Semple's  name 
among  them.  Likely  enough,  her  family  sympa 
thized  with  her.  It  would  at  least  be  prudent  to 
secure  the  husband  and  son.  If  they  were  good 
royalists,  they  could  easily  prove  it.  Then  he  sat 
down  to  smoke  and  to  drink  brandy;  he,  too,  had 
done  his  duty,  and  was  not  troubled  at  all  about 
results.  The  Semples,  to  him,  were  only  two  or 
three  out  of  sixty  thousand  reputed  royalists  in  the 
city.  If  they  were  honest,  they  had  little  to  fear; 
if  they  were  traitors,  they  deserved  all  they  would 
certainly  get  from  Clinton  in  his  present  surly  mood. 

Quite  unconscious  of  what  was  transpiring,  John 
Bradley  was  eating  a  frugal  supper  of  oatmeal  and 


136    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

bread  and  cheese,  and  telling  his  daughter  about  a 
handsome  saddle  that  was  going  up  the  river  to 
"the  man  in  all  the  world  most  worthy  of  it."  Elder 
Semple  was  asleep,  and  Madame,  lying  in  the  dark 
ness,  was  softly  praying  away  her  physical  pain  and 
her  mental  anxieties.  Suddenly  she  heard  an  un 
usual  stir  and  the  prompt,  harsh  voices  of  men  either 
quarreling  or  giving  orders. 

"It  is  on  our  ain  place!"  and  a  sick  terror  assail 
ing  her,  she  cried:  "Wake  up!  Wake  up,  Alexan 
der  !  There's  men  at  the  door,  and  angry  men,  and 
they're  calling  you !" 

Neil,  who  was  sitting  dressed  in  his  room,  in 
stantly  answered  the  summons,  and  was  instantly 
under  arrest;  and  as  no  effort  was  made  to  prevent 
noise  or  confusion,  the  tumult  and  panic  soon 
reached  Maria.  She  was  combing  her  hair  to  fret 
ful  thoughts,  and  a  keen  sense  of  disappointment; 
but  when  Madame  entered  the  room  wringing  her 
hands  and  lamenting  loudly,  she  let  the  comb  fall 
and  stood  up  trembling  with  apprehension. 

"Maria!  Maria!  They  are  taking  your  grand 
father  and  uncle  to  prison !  Oh,  God,  my  dear  auld 
man !  My  dear  auld  man !" 

"Grandmother!  What  are  you  saying?  You 
must  be  mistaken — you  must  be !" 

"Come,  and  see  for  yoursel' ;"  and  Madame  flung 
open  the  window  and  with  a  shriek  of  futile  distress 
cried,  "Alexander,  look  at  me!  Speak  to  me." 

At  these  words  the  Elder,  who  was  standing  with 
a  soldier,  lifted  his  face  to  the  distracted  woman, 
in  her  white  gown  at  the  open  window,  and  cried  to 
her: 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    137 

"Janet,  my  dearie,  you'll  get  your  death  o'  cold. 
It  is  a'  a  mistake.  Go  to  your  bed,  dear  woman. 
I'll  be  hame  in  the  morning." 

Neil  repeated  this  advice,  and  then  there  was  a 
sharp  order  and  a  small  body  of  men  marched  for 
ward,  and  in  their  midst  Harry  walked  bareheaded 
and  manacled.  He  tried  to  look  up,  for  he  had 
heard  the  colloquy  between  the  Elder  and  his  wife, 
and  understood  Maria  might  be  also  at  the 
window ;  but  as  he  turned  his  head  a  gigantic  High 
lander  struck  him  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  and  as 
the  blow  fell  rattling  on  the  youth's  shoulder  Maria 
threw  up  her  hands  with  a  shriek  and  fell  into  a 
chair  sobbing. 

"Dinna  cry  that  way,  Maria,  my  dearie;  they'll 
be  hame  in  the  morning." 

"Yes,  yes,  grandmother!  It  was  the  blow  on 
that  last  prisoner.  Did  you  see  it  ?  Did  you  hear  it  ? 
Oh,  what  a  shame!" 

"Poor  lad!  I  know  naething  about  him;  but  he 
is  in  a  terrible  sair  strait." 

"What  is  he  doing  here  in  our  house?  Surely 
you  know,  grandmother?" 

"I  know  naething  about  him.  He  is  doubtless 
one  o'  Washington's  messengers — there's  plenty  o' 
them  round.  Why  he  came  near  us  is  mair  than 
I  can  say."  Then  a  sudden  fear  made  her  look  in 
tently  at  Maria,  and  she  asked,  "Do  you  think  your 
Uncle  Neil  has  turned  to  the  American  cause?" 

"Oh,  grandmother,  how  can  you?" 

"He  has  been  so  much  wi'  that  Agnes  Bradley. 
My  heart  misgave  me  at  the  first  about  her.  Neil 
is  in  love,  and  men  in  love  do  anything." 


138    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Uncle  Neil  is  as  true  a  royalist  as  grandfather." 

"See,  then,  what  they  have,  baith  o'  them,  got 
for  standing  by  King  George.  It  serves  them 
right!  It  serves  them  right!  O  dear,  dear  me! 
What  shall  we  do?" 

Two  weary  hours  \vere  spent  in  such  useless  con 
versation  ;  then  Madame,  being  perfectly  exhausted, 
was  compelled  to  go  to  bed.  "We  can  do  naething 
till  morning,"  she  said;  "and  Neil  will  hae  his  plans 
laid  by  that  time.  They  will  be  to  bail,  doubtless; 
and  God  knows  where  the  friends  and  the  money  are 
to  come  from.  But  there's  plenty  o'  time  for  grief 
to-morrow;  go  and  sleep  an  hour  or  two  now." 

"And  you,  grandmother?     What  will  you  do?" 

"He  who  never  fails  will  strengthen  me.  When 
the  morn  comes  I  shall  be  able  for  all  it  can  bring. 
This  was  such  a  sudden  blow  I  lost  my  grip." 

Alone  in  her  room,  Maria  felt  the  full  force  of  the 
sudden  blow.  Although  Harry's  note  had  missed 
her,  she  understood  that  he  had  been  waiting  for 
a  few  words  with  her.  Twice  before  she  had  been 
in  the  garden  when  he  passed  up  the  river,  and  he 
had  landed  and  spent  a  delicious  half-hour  with 
her.  She  was  sure  now  that  he  had  been  as  much 
disappointed  as  herself,  and  had  hoped  she  would 
come  and  say  good-bye  as  soon  as  she  reached  home. 
But  who  had  betrayed  him?  And  why  was  her 
grandfather  and  uncle  included  in  his  arrest? 

For  some  time  she  could  think  of  nothing  but  her 
lover  walking  so  proudly  in  the  midst  of  his  ene 
mies;  reviled  by  them,  struck  by  them,  yet  holding 
his  head  as  authoritatively  as  if  he  was  their  cap 
tain,  rather  than  their  prisoner.  Then  she  remem- 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    139 

bered  Agnes,  and  at  first  it  was  with  anger.  "If 
she  had  not  been  so  selfish,  Harry  would  not  have 
needed  to  take  such  a  risk !"  she  cried.  "It  is  dread 
ful  !  dreadful !  And  just  as  soon  as  it  is  light  I 
must  go  and  tell  her.  Her  father  must  now  know 
all ;  he  ought  to  have  been  told  long  ago.  I 
shall  insist  on  her  telling  now,  for  Harry's  life  is 
first  of  all,  and  his  father  has  power  some  way  or 
other." 

Thus  through  the  long  hours  she  wept  and  com 
plained  and  blamed  Agnes  and  even  herself,  and 
perhaps  most  of  all  was  angry  with  the  intrusive 
Macpherson,  whose  unwelcome  presence  had  been 
the  cause  of  the  trouble.  And,  oh !  what  arid  tor 
turing  vigils  are  those  where  God  is  not !  Madame 
lying  on  her  bed  with  her  hands  folded  over  her 
breast  and  thoughts  heavenward,  was  at  peace  com 
pared  with  this  tumultuous  little  heart  in  the  midst 
of  doubt,  darkness,  and  the  terror  of  dreadful  death 
for  one  dear  to  her.  She  knew  not  what  to  abandon, 
nor  what  to  defend;  her  brain  seemed  stupefied  by 
calamity  so  inevitable.  And  yet,  it  was  not  inevita 
ble;  it  had  depended  for  many  minutes  on  her 
self.  A  word,  a  look,  and  Agnes  would  have  under 
stood  her  desire;  and  half  a  dozen  times  before  she 
had  made  the  movement  which  was  just  too  late; 
her  heart  had  urged  her  to  call  her  friend.  But  she 
had  doubted,  wavered,  and  delayed,  and  so  given  to 
Destiny  the  very  weapons  that  were  used  against 
her. 

As  soon  as  the  morning  dawned  she  dressed  her 
self.  Before  her  grandmother  came  down  stairs 
it  was  imperative  on  her  to  see  Agnes  and  tell  her 


140    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

what  had  happened.  A  dismal,  anxious  stillness 
had  succeeded  the  storm  of  her  terror  and  grief;  a 
feeling  of  outrage,  of  resentment  against  events, 
and  an  agony  of  love  and  pity,  as  she  remembered 
Harry  smitten  and  helpless  in  the  power  of  a  merci 
less  foe.  She  had  now  one  driving  thought  and 
purpose — the  release  of  her  lover.  She  must  save 
the  life  he  had  risked  for  her  sake,  though  she  gave 
her  own  for  it. 

As  she  went  through  the  gray  dawning  she  was 
sensitive  to  some  antagonism,  even  in  Nature.  The 
unseasonable  warmth  of  the  previous  evening  had 
been  followed  by  a  frost.  The  faded  grass  snapped 
under  her  fleet  steps;  the  last  foliage  had  withered 
during  the  night,  and  was  black  and  yellow  as 
death,  and  everything  seemed  to  shiver  in  the  pale 
light.  And  though  the  waning  moon  yet  hung  low 
in  the  west,  and  all  the  mystery  and  majesty  of 
earth  was  round  her,  Maria  was  only  conscious  of 
the  chill  terror  in  her  heart,  and  of  the  chill,  damp 
mist  from  the  river  which  enfolded  her  like  a  cloak, 
and  was  the  very  atmosphere  of  sorrow. 

When  she  reached  the  Bradley  home  all  was  shut 
and  still;  the  very  house  seemed  to  be  asleep,  but 
why  did  its  closed  door  affect  her  so  painfully? 
She  went  round  to  the  kitchen  and  found  the  slave 
woman  Mosella  bending  over  a  few  blazing  chips, 
making  herself  a  cup  of  tea.  The  woman  looked 
at  her  wonderingly,  and  when  Maria  said,  "Mosella, 
I  must  see  Miss  Agnes  at  once,"  she  rose  without 
a  word  and  opened  the  garden  door  of  the  house. 
The  shutters  were  all  closed,  the  stairway  dim,  and 
the  creaking  of  the  steps  under  her  feet  made  her 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    141 

quiver.  It  was  an  hour  too  early  for  light  and 
life,  and  a  noiseless  noise  around  her  seemed  to 
protest  against  this  premature  invasion  of  the  day. 

She  entered  the  room  of  her  friend  very  softly. 
It  was  breathless,  shadowy,  and  on  the  white  bed 
Agnes  was  lying,  asleep.  For  a  moment  Maria 
stood  looking  at  the  orderly  place  and  the  uncon 
scious  woman.  The  pure  pallor  of  her  cheeks  had 
the  flush  of  healthy  sleep;  her  brown  hair,  braided, 
lay  loose  upon  her  pillow;  her  white  hands  upon 
the  white  coverlet.  She  was  the  image  of  deep, 
dreamless,  peaceful  oblivion.  It  seemed  a  kind  of 
wrong  to  awaken  her ;  but  though  the  eyes  of  Agnes 
were  closed,  Maria's  gaze  called  to  the  soul  on  guard 
behind  them,  and  without  one  premonitory  move 
ment  she  opened  them  wide  and  saw  Maria  at  her 
bedside.  A  quick  fear  leaped  into  her  heart.  She 
was  momentarily  speechless.  She  laid  her  hand  on 
Maria's  arm,  and  looked  at  her  with  apprehending 
inquiry. 

"Harry!"  said  Maria,  and  then  she  sat  down  and 
covered  her  face  and  began  to  cry  softly.  There 
was  no  necessity  to  say  more.  Agnes  understood. 
She  rose  and  began  to  dress  herself,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  asked,  though  almost  in  a  whisper : 

"Is  he  taken?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"At  our  landing." 

"When?" 

"Last  night." 

"Why  did  you  not  send  me  word  last  night? 
Neil  would  have  come." 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


"Neil  was  arrested,  and  also  my  dear  old  grand 
father.  It  is  shameful  !  shameful  !" 

"What  was  Harry  doing  at  your  landing?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  was  in  my  room.  I  was  half- 
undressed,  combing  my  hair  out,  when  grandmother 
rushed  to  me  with  the  news.  It  is  not  my  fault, 
Agnes." 

"Did  you  ever  meet  Harry  at  your  landing, 
Maria?"' 

"Only  twice,  both  times  in  the  daylight.  He 
was  passing  and  happened  to  see  me.  There  was 
no  tryst  between  us  ;  and  I  know  nothing  about  last 
night,  except  - 

"Except  what?" 

"That  if  you  had  given  him  a  chance  to  say 
'Good-bye'  to  me  here,  he  would  not  have  thought 
of  stopping  at  our  landing;  but,"  she  added  in  a 
weary  voice,  "you  were  watching  for  Uncle  Neil, 
and  so,  of  course,  you  forgot  other  people." 

"Don't  be  cruel,  Maria,  as  well  as  unjust." 

"All  the  same,  it  is  the  truth." 

"How  was  he  discovered?  You  surely  know 
that?" 

"No,  I  do  not.  There  were  at  least  ten  or 
twelve  soldiers  —  Highlanders.  One  of  them  struck 
Harry." 

"Oh,  why  do  you  tell  me?  Who  could  have  be 
trayed  him?  Macpherson?  You  know  you  of 
fended  him." 

"It  could  not  be  Macpherson.  He  never  saw 
Harry  before.  He  knew  nothing  about  him.  He 
thought  his  name  was  Deane.  If  it  had  been  Mac- 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    143 

pherson,  your  landing,  not  ours,  would  have  been 
watched." 

"No;  for  he  saw  you  and  Harry  coming  through 
the  garden  hand-in-hand.  I  am  sure  he  did.  He 
went  away  in  a  fit  of  jealousy,  and  he  would  think 
of  your  landing  as  well  as  ours.  But  all  that  is 
nothing.  We  have  but  a  few  hours  in  which  to 
try  and  save  his  life.  I  must  awake  father  and  tell 
him.  It  wTill  break  his  heart." 

"You  ought  to  have  told  him " 

"I  know." 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"Women  can  do  nothing  but  suffer.  I  am  sorry 
with  all  my  soul  for  you,  Maria,  and  I  will  let  you 
know  what  father  does.  Go  home  to  your  poor 
grandmother;  she  will  need  all  the  comfort  you  can 
give  her." 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  Agnes;  yes,  I  am !  I  will  do 
anything  I  can.  There  is  Lord  Medway,  he  loves 
me ;  and  General  Clinton  loves  him,  I  know  he  does ; 
I  have  seen  them  together." 

"Father  is  first.  I  must  awaken  him.  Leave 
me  now,  Maria,  dear.  None  but  God  can  stand  by 
me  in  this  hour." 

Then  Maria  kissed  her,  and  Agnes  fell  upon  her 
knees,  her  arms  spread  out  on  her  bed  and  her  face 
buried  in  them.  There  were  no  words  given  her; 
she  could  not  pray;  but  when  the  Gate  of  Prayer  is 
closed  the  Gate  of  Tears  is  still  open.  She  wept 
and  was  somewhat  helped,  though  it  was  only  by 
that  intense  longing  after  God  which  made  her  cry 
out,  "O  that  I  knew  where  to  find  Him,  that  I 
might  come  into  His  presence!" 


144    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

When  she  went  to  her  father's  door  he  was  al 
ready  awake.  She  heard  him  moving  about  his 
room,  washing  and  dressing,  and  humming  to  him 
self  in  strong  snatches  a  favorite  hymn  tune;  no 
words  seemed  to  have  come  to  him,  for  the  melody 
was  kept  by  a  single  syllable  that  served  to  connect 
the  notes.  Nevertheless,  the  tone  was  triumphant 
and  the  singer  full  of  energy.  It  made  Agnes  shiver 
and  sicken  to  listen  to  him.  She  sat  down  on  the  top 
most  stair  and  waited.  It  could  not  be  many  minutes, 
and  nothing  for  or  against  Harry  could  be  done  till 
the  world  awoke  and  went  to  business.  Very  soon 
the  hymn  tune  ceased,  and  there  was  a  few  minutes 
of  a  silence  that  could  be  felt,  for  it  was  threaded 
through  by  a  low,  solemn  murmur  easy  to  trans 
late, — the  man  was  praying.  When  he  came  out  of 
his  room  he  saw  Agnes  sitting  on  the  stair,  and  as 
soon  as  she  lifted  her  face  to  him  he  was  frightened 
and  asked  sharply : 

"What  are  you  doing  there,  Agnes?  What  has 
happened  ?" 

She  spoke  one  word  only,  but  that  word  went  like 
a  sword  to  the  father's  heart, — "Harry!" 

He  repeated  the  word  after  her:  "Harry!  Is  he 
ill?  Let  me  see  the  letter,  where  is  he?  With 
Doctor  Brudenel?  Can't  you  speak,  girl?" 

"Harry  is  here,  in  New  York,  in  prison?" 

The  words  fell  shivering  from  her  lips ;  she  raised 
herself,  watching  her  father's  face  the  while,  for 
she  thought  he  was  going  to  fall.  He  shook  like 
a  great  tree  in  a  storm,  and  then  retreated  to  the 
door  of  his  room  and  stood  writh  his  back  against 
it.  He  could  not  speak,  and  Agnes  was  afraid. 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    145 

"Father,"  she  said  in  a  low,  passionate  voice  of 
entreaty,  "we  have  the  boy  to  save.  Do  not  lose 
yourself.  You  have  your  Father  to  lean  upon." 

"I  know!  I  feel!  Go  and  make  me  a  cup  of 
coffee.  I  will  be  ready  when  you  call  me." 

Then  he  went  back  into  his  room  and  shut  the 
door,  and  Agnes,  with  a  sick,  heavy  heart,  prepared 
the  necessary  meal.  For  though  danger,  sorrow 
and  death  press  on  every  side,  the  body  must  have 
sustenance;  and  every-day  meals,  that  look  so  trag 
ically  common  and  out  of  place  must  go  on  as  usual. 
But  it  was  a  little  respite  and  she  was  grateful,  be 
cause  in  it  her  father  would  talk  the  trouble  over 
with  God  before  she  had  to  explain  it  to  him.  The 
interval  was  a  short  one,  but  during  it  John  Bradley 
found  Him  wrho  is  "a  very  present  help  in  every 
hour  of  need."  He  came  down  to  his  coffee  in  full 
possession  of  himself  and  ready  for  the  fight  before 
him.  But  he  had  also  realized  the  disobedience 
which  had  brought  on  this  sorrow,  and  the  decep 
tion  which  had  sanctioned  the  boy  in  his  diso 
bedience.  Therefore  Agnes  was  afraid  when  she 
saw  his  severe  eyes,  and  shrank  from  them  as  from 
a  blow,  and  large  tears  filled  her  own  and  rolled 
down  her  white  cheeks  unchecked. 

"Agnes,"  he  said,  "tell  me  the  whole  truth.  I 
must  know  everything,  or  you  may  add  your  broth 
er's  murder  to  the  other  wrongdoing.  When  did 
he  come  back  to  America  ?" 

"Six  months  after  you  sent  him  to  England.  He 
said  he  could  not,  durst  not,  stay  there.  He  thought 
that  God  might  have  some  work  that  needed  just 
him  to  do  it.  I  think  Harry  found  that  work." 


146    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  at  the  time?" 
"I  was  in  Boston,  at  school,  when  Harry  first 
came  to  me,  and  we  talked  together  then  about  tell 
ing  you.  But  at  that  time  both  of  us  supposed  you 
to  be  a  King's  man,  and  the  party  feeling  was  then 
riotously  cruel.  Harry  had  been  three  months  with 
Washington,  and  his  peculiar  fitness  for  the  New 
York  Secret  Service  had  been  found  out.  Still, 
Washington  took  no  unfair  advantage  of  his  youth 
and  enthusiasm.  He  told  him  he  would  be  one  of 
a  band  of  young  men  who  lived  with  their  lives 
in  their  hands.  And  when  Harry  answered,  'Gen 
eral,  if  I  can  bring  you  information  that  will  help 
Freedom  forward  one  step,  my  life  gladly  for  it/ 
Washington's  eyes  shone,  and  he  gave  Harry  his 
hand  and  said,  'Brave  boy!  Your  father  must  be 
a  happy  man.' ' 

She  paused  here  and  looked  at  the  father,  and 
saw  that  his  face  was  lifted  and  that  a  noble  pride 
strove  with  a  noble  pain  for  the  mastery.  So  she 
continued :  "Harry  has  helped  Freedom  forward. 
He  found  out,  while  pretending  to  fish  for  the  garri 
son  at  Stony  Point,  the  best  way  across  the  marsh 
and  up  the  rocks.  He  helped  to  set  afloat  the  re 
ports  that  brought  Tryon  back  from  Connecticut, 
and  the  garrison  from  Rhode  Island.  He  has  pre 
pared  the  way  for  many  a  brave  deed,  taken  all 
the  danger  and  the  labor,  getting  no  fame  and 
wanting  none,  his  only  aim  to  serve  his  country  and 
to  be  loved  and  trusted  by  Washington.  If  we  erred 
in  keeping  these  things  from  you,  it  has  been  an 
error  of  love.  And  when  we  knew  you  also  were 
serving  your  country  in  your  own  way,  Harry  was 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    147 

sure  you  would  do  it  better  and  safer  if  you  were 
not  always  looking  for  him — fearing  for  him.  Oh, 
father!  surely  you  see  how  his  presence  would  have 
embarrassed  you  and  led  to  suspicion." 

"I  would  like  to  have  seen  the  boy,"  he  said, 
softly,  as  if  he  were  thinking  the  words  to  himself. 

"He  saw  you  often,  never  came  to  the  city  with 
out  passing  the  shop  to  see  you;  and  it  made  both 
of  us  happy  to  believe  that  very  soon  now  he  would 
dare  to  speak  to  you  and  to  say,  'Father,  forgive 
me.'  " 

"I  must  go  to  him,  Agnes.  Harry's  life  must  be 
saved,  or  I,  John  Bradley,  will  know  the  reason  why. 
Yes,  and  if  he  has  to  die  there  are  some  big 
men  here,  playing  double-face,  that  will  die  with 
him.  I  know  them 

"Oh,  father!  father!  What  are  you  saying? 
Vengeance  is  not  ours.  Would  it  bring  Harry  back 
to  us?" 

"It  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  Who  was  the  in 
former?  Tell  me  that.  And  where  was  he  taken  ?" 

"I  cannot  tell  who  informed.  He  was  taken  with 
his  little  boat  at  Elder  Semple's  landing  by  a  party 
of  Scotch  Highlanders." 

"What  on  earth  was  he  doing  at  Semple's?  Do 
you  think  the  Elder,  or  that  fine  gentleman  Neil, 
gave  information?" 

"They  were  both  arrested  with  Harry.  They  also 
are  in  prison." 

"Am  I  losing  my  senses?  The  Semples!  They 
are  royalists,  known  royalists,  bitter  as  gall.  What 
was  Harry  doing  at  their  place?  Tell  me." 

"I  do  not  certainly  know,  father.     I  think  he  may 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


have  gone  there  hoping  that   Maria   would   come 
down  to  the  river  to  say  a  good-bye  to  him." 

"Maria!  That  is  it,  of  course.  If  a  man  is  to 
be  led  to  destruction  and  death,  it  is  some  woman 
who  will  do  the  business  for  him.  I  warned  you 
about  that  Maria.  My  heart  misgave  me  about 
the  whole  family.  So  Harry  is  in  love  with  her! 
That  is  your  doing,  girl.  What  business  had  you 
to  let  them  meet  at  all?  If  Harry  perishes,  I  shall 
find  it  hard  to  forgive  you  ;  hard  to  ever  see  you 
again.  All  this  sorrow  for  your  sentimental  non 
sense  about  Maria.  If  she  had  been  kept  out  of 
Harry's  life,  he  would  have  gone  safely  and  tri 
umphantly  on  to  victory  with  the  rest  of  us.  But 
you  must  have  your  friend  and  your  friend's 
brother,  and  your  own  brother  must  pay  the  price 
of  it." 

"Oh,  father,  be  just!  Even  if  you  cannot  pity 
me,  be  just.  I  am  suffering  as  much  as  I  can  bear." 

Then  he  rose  and  put  on  his  hat  and  coat.  "Stay 
where  you  are,"  he  said.  "I  \vill  not  have  women 
meddling  with  what  I  have  now  to  do.  Don't  leave 
the  house  for  anyone  or  anything." 

"You  will  send  me  some  word,  father.  I  shall 
be  in  an  agony  of  suspense." 

"If  there  is  any  word  to  send,  I  will  send  it." 
Then  he  went  away  without  kissing  her,  without 
one  of  his  ordinary  tender  words;  he  left  her  alone 
with  her  crushing  sorrow,  and  the  consciousness 
that  upon  her  he  would  lay  the  blame  of  whatever 
disaster  came  to  Harry.  She  had  no  heart  for  her 
household  duties,  and  she  left  the  unwashed  china 
and  went  back  to  her  room.  She  was  yet  in  a  state 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    149 

of  pitiful  bewilderment;  her  grief  was  so  certain, 
its  need  was  so  urgent,  and  at  that  hour  Heaven 
seemed  so  far  off;  and  yet  she  questioned  her  soul 
so  eagerly  for  the  watchword  that  should  give  her 
that  stress  of  spirit  which  would  connect  her  with 
the  Unseen  World  and  permit  her  to  claim  its  in 
vincible  help. 

Agnes  had  told  her  father  that  it  was  Highlanders 
who  arrested  Harry,  and  Bradley  went  first  to  their 
quarters.  There  he  learned  that  the  young  man 
had  disclaimed  connection  with  any  regiment  what 
ever;  and,  being  in  citizen's  clothes  and  wearing 
no  arms,  his  claim  had  been  allowed  and  his  case 
turned  over  to  the  Military  Court  of  Police.  So 
far  it  was  favorable ;  the  cruel  haste  of  a  court  mar 
tial  shut  the  door  of  hope;  but  John  Bradley  knew 
the  Court  of  Police  was  composed  of  men  who  put 
financial  arguments  before  all  others.  He  was, 
however,  too  early,  an  hour  too  early,  to  see  any 
one;  and  the  prisoner  was  under  watch  in  one  of 
the  guard-houses  and  could  not  be  approached. 

He  wandered  back  to  his  shop  utterly  miserable 
and  restless  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Thomas  Curtis, 
a  clever  lawyer,  and  a  partner  of  Neil  Sem- 
ple,  explaining  the  position  of  his  son  and  begging 
him  to  be  at  the  Court  of  Police  when  it  opened. 
This  letter  he  carried  to  the  lawyer's  office  and  paid 
the  boy  in  attendance  to  deliver  it  immediately  on 
the  arrival  of  his  master.  Then  he  went  back  to 
his  shop  for  money,  and  as  he  was  slowly  leaving 
the  place  Lord  Medway  spoke  to  him.  He  had  his 
rifle  over  his  shoulder  and  was  going  with  a  friend 
to  Long  Island  to  shoot  birds.  The  sight  of  the 


1 50    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

man  made  John  Bradley's  heart  leap  and  burn.  He 
had  been  waiting  for  some  leading  as  to  the  way  he 
ought  to  take,  and  he  felt  that  it  had  been  given 
him. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Bradley,"  said  the  noble 
man. 

"My  lord,  turn  back  with  me  to  my  shop.  I  have 
something  of  the  greatest  importance  to  tell  you." 

Medway  smiled :  "My  hunting  is  of  the  greatest 
importance  at  present,  Mr.  Bradley,  for  my  friend, 
Colonel  Pennington,  is  waiting  for  me;  but  if  I  can 
be  of  service " 

"I  think  you  can;  at  least,  listen  to  me." 

Medway  bent  his  head  in  acquiescence,  and  Brad 
ley  led  the  way  to  the  small  room  behind  his  shop, 
which  had  been  his  sitting  and  dining  room  while 
his  daughter  was  at  school.  He  plunged  at  once  into 
the  subject  of  his  anxieties. 

"There  was  a  prisoner  taken  last  night." 

"A  young  man  in  a  boat;  I  heard  of  it.  General 
Clinton  thinks  they  may  have  made  an  important 
arrest." 

"He  is  my  son — my  only  son!  I  did  not  know 
until  an  hour  ago  that  he  was  in  America.  I  sent 
him  to  England  at  the  beginning  of  the  war — to  a 
fine  school  there — and  I  thought  he  was  safe;  and 
he  has  been  here,  one  of  Washington's  scouts,  car 
rying  messages  from  camp  to  camp,  in  and  out  of 
New  York  in  all  kinds  of  disguises,  spreading  re 
ports  and  gathering  reports,  buying  medicines,  and 
clothing,  and  what  not;  doing,  in  short,  duties 
which  in  every  case  were  life  and  death  matters. 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    151 

For  three  years  or  more  he  has  done  these  things 
safely;  last  night  he  was  discovered." 

"And  you  thought  he  was  in  England,  safe  and 
comfortable,  and  learning  his  lessons?" 

"I  did,  and  thanked  God  for  it." 

"Now,  I  would  offer  thanks  for  the  other  things. 
If  I  were  an  American  it  would  gladden  my  heart  to 
have  a  son  like  that.  The  young  man  thinks  he 
has  been  doing  his  duty;  be  a  little  proud  of  him. 
I'll  be  bound  he  deserves  it.  Who  arrested  him?" 

"Some  soldiers  from  the  Highland  regiment." 

"How  did  they  happen  to  know?  Could  Mac- 
pherson  have  informed?  Oh,  impossible!  What 
am  I  saying?  Where  was  he  taken ?" 

"At  Elder  Semple's  landing." 

"You  confound  me,  Bradley.  I  will  stake  my 
honor  on  the  Semples's  loyalty — father  and  son 
both.  What  was  he  doing  there  ?" 

"He  had  the  old  reason  for  calamity — a  woman. 
He  is  in  love  with  the  Elder's  granddaughter,  and 
Agnes  thinks  he  must  have  landed  hoping  to  see 
her." 

"You  mean,  he  had  a  tryst  with  her?" 

"I  only  surmise.     I  can  tell  nothing  surely." 

"I  will  go  with  you  to  court,  Bradley.  Can  you 
send  a  man  with  a  message  to  Colonel  Pennington  ?" 

This  done  they  went  out  together,  and  many 
looked  curiously  at  the  lord  and  the  saddler  walk 
ing  the  streets  of  New  York  in  company.  For  in 
those  days  the  lines  of  caste  were  severely  drawn. 
When  they  entered  the  courtroom  the  case  of  the 
Semples  was  being  heard;  but  Harry  sat  a  little 


152    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


apart,  on  either  side  of  him  a  soldier.  The  father 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  him,  and  a  proud  flush  warmed 
his  white  face  at  the  sight  of  the  lad's  dauntless 
bearing  and  calm,  almost  cheerful,  aspect. 

Lord  Medway  looked  first  toward  the  Semples, 
and  conspicuously  bowed  to  both  of  them.  The 
Elder  was  evidently  sick,  fretful,  and  suffering. 
Neil  was  wounded  in  every  fiber  of  his  proud  nature. 
The  loyalty,  the  honor,  the  good  name  of  the  Sem 
ples  had  been,  he  believed,  irrevocably  injured;  for 
he  was  lawyer  enough  to  know  that  it  is  nearly  as 
bad  to  be  suspected  as  to  be  guilty.  And,  small 
as  the  matter  seemed  in  comparison,  he  was  in 
tensely  mortified  at  the  personal  disarray  of  his 
father  and  himself.  The  men  who  arrested  them 
had  given  them  no  time  to  arrange  their  clothing, 
and  Neil  knew  they  looked  more  suspiciously  guilty 
for  want  of  their  clean  laces  and  the  renovating 
influences  of  water  and  brushes. 

The  assistant  magistrate,  Peter  DuBois,  was 
just  questioning  Elder  Semple. 

"Look  at  the  prisoner  taken  on  your  premises, 
Mr.  Semple.  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  never  saw  him  in  a'  my  life  before  his  arrest." 
"Did  you  know  he  was  using  your  landing?" 
"Not  I.     I  was  fast  asleep  in  my  bed." 
"Mr.  Neil  Semple,  what  have  you  to  say?" 
"I  was  sitting  partially  dressed,  reading  in  my 
room.     I  have  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  young 
man,  nor  can  I  give  you  any  reason  why  our  landing 
should  have  been  used  by  him." 

Mr.  Curtis  then  spoke  eloquently  of  the  unstained 
loyalty  of  the  Semples,  and  of  their  honorable  life 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    153 

for  half  a  century  in  the  city  of  New  York.  But 
Peter  DuBois  held  that  they  were  not  innocent,  inas 
much  as  they  had  been  so  careless  of  His  Majesty's 
interests  as  to  permit  their  premises  to  be  used  for 
treasonable  purposes. 

"The  Court  must  first  prove  the  treasonable  pur 
poses,"  said  Mr.  Curtis. 

"The  Court  proposes  to  do  so,"  answered  DuBois. 
"Henry  Deane,  stand  up!"  and  as  he  did  so  Brad 
ley  uttered  a  sharp  cry  and  rose  to  his  feet  also.  In 
this  hour  Harry  looked  indeed  a  son  to  be  proud 
of.  He  showed  no  fear,  and  was  equally  free  from 
that  bluster  that  often  cloaks  fear,  but  raised  a  face 
calm  and  cheerful — the  face  of  a  man  who  knows 
that  he  has  done  nothing  worthy  of  blame. 

"Henry  Deane,"  said  DuBois,  "is  there  anyone 
in  New  York  who  knows  you  ?" 

"I  do!"  shouted  John  Bradley.  "He  is  my  son! 
My  dear  son,  Henry  Deane  Bradley;"  and  with  the 
words  he  marched  to  his  son's  side  and  threw  his 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"Oh,  father!  father,  forgive  me!" 

"Oh,  Harry!  Harry!  I  have  nothing  to  forgive!" 
and  he  kissed  him  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  court, 
and  wept  over  him  like  a  mother. 

The  whole  affair  had  been  so  sudden,  so  startling 
and  affecting,  that  it  was  not  at  once  interrupted. 
But  in  a  few  moments  the  examination  proceeded, 
DuBois  asking,  "Do  you  know  the  Semples?" 

"I  have  seen  them  often.  I  have  never  spoken  to 
either  of  them  in  all  my  life." 

"What  took  you  to  their  landing,  then  ?" 

"I  know  it  so  well.      When  I  was  a  little  boy  I 


154    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

used  to  borrow  Elder  Semple's  boat  if  I  wished  to 
fish  or  row,  because  I  knew  they  were  busy  in  the 
city  and  would  not  miss  it.  So  I  got  used  to  their 
landing  years  ago." 

"Had  you  any  special  reason  for  going  there  last 
night?"  * 

"Yes.  It  was  a  good  place  to  wait  until  the  moon 
rose." 

"No  other  reason?" 

"Habit." 

"Nothing  to  get  there?" 

"Nothing  at  all." 

"No  one  to  see  there?" 

"No  one." 

Lord  Medway  sighed  heavily.  The  words  were 
a  tremendous  relief.  If  the  young  man  had  named 
Maria  it  would  have  been  shameful  and  unbearable. 
He  began  now  to  take  more  interest  in  him. 

"You  refused  to  tell  last  night,"  said  DuBois,  "to 
whom  you  were  carrying  the  clothing  and  the  sad 
dle  that  was  in  your  boat.  Will  you  now  name  the 
person  or  persons?" 

"No.      I  refuse  to  name  them." 

"From  whom  did  you  receive  or  purchase  these 
articles?" 

"I  refuse  to  say." 

"Perhaps  from  the  Semples?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  never  received  and  never 
bought  a  pin's  worth  from  the  Semples." 

In  fact,  no  evidence  of  complicity  could  either  be 
found  or  manufactured  against  the  Semples,  and 
Mr.  Curtis  demanded  their  honorable  acquittal. 
But  they  were  good  subjects  for  plunder,  and 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    155 

DuBois  had  already  intimated  to  Judge  Matthews 
how  their  purses  could  be  reached.  In  pursuance 
of  this  advice,  Judge  Matthews  said : 

"The  loyalty  of  Alexander  Semple  and  of  his  son, 
Neil  Semple,  cannot  be  questioned;  but  they  have 
been  unfortunately  careless  of  His  Majesty's  rights 
in  permitting  their  premises  to  be  of  aid  and  com 
fort  to  rebels ;  and  therefore,  as  an  acknowledgment 
of  this  fault,  and  as  a  preventative  to  its  recurrence, 
Alexander  Semple  is  fined  two  hundred  pounds  and 
Neil  Semple  one  hundred  pounds.  The  prisoners 
are  free  upon  their  own  recognizances  until  the  fif 
teenth  day  of  November,  when  they  must  appear  in 
this  court  and  pay  the  fines  as  decided." 

The  Elder  heard  the  decision  in  a  kind  of  stupe 
faction.  Neil,  neither  by  himself  or  his  lawyer, 
made  any  protest.  What  use  was  there  in  doing 
so?  They  had  been  sentenced  by  a  court  account 
able  to  no  tribunal  whatever :  a  court  arbitrary  and 
illegal,  that  troubled  itself  neither  with  juries  nor 
oaths,  and  from  which  there  was  no  appeal.  Lord 
Medway  watched  the  proceedings  with  indigna 
tion,  and  the  feeling  in  the  room  was  full  of  sym 
pathy  for  the  two  men.  Neil's  haughty  manner  and 
stern  face  betrayed  nothing  of  the  anger  he  felt,  but 
the  Elder  was  hardly  prevented  from  speaking 
words  which  would  have  brought  him  still  greater 
loss.  As  it  was,  it  taxed  Neil's  strength  and  com 
posure  to  the  uttermost  to  get  his  father  with  dignity 
away  from  the  scene.  He  gave  him  his  arm,  and 
whispered  authoritatively,  "Do  not  give  way, 
father!  Do  not  open  your  lips!"  So  the  old  gen 
tleman  straightened  himself,  and,  leaning  heavily 


156    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 


on  his  son,  reached  the  lobby  before  he  fell  into  a 
state  bordering  on  collapse. 

Neil  placed  him  in  a  chair,  got  him  water,  and 
was  wondering  where  he  could  most  easily  procure 
a  carriage,  when  the  sound  of  wheels  coming  at  a 
furious  rate  arrested  his  attention.  They  stopped 
at  the  court  house,  and  as  Neil  went  to  the  door 
the  lovely  Madame  Jacobus  sprang  out  of  the  ve 
hicle. 

"Neil!"  she  cried.  "Neil  Semple!  I  only  heard 
an  hour  ago,  I  came  as  soon  as  the  horses  were 
ready,  it  is  disgraceful.  Where  is  the  Elder  ?  Can 
I  take  him  home?" 

"Madame,  it  will  be  the  greatest  kindness.  He 
is  ready  to  faint." 

The  Elder  looked  at  her  with  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  "they  have  fined  me  in  my 
auld  age  for  a  misdemeanor" — and  then  he  laughed 
hysterically.  "I  hae  lived  fifty  years  in  New  York, 
and  I  am  fined — I  hae " 

She  stopped  the  quavering  voice  with  a  kiss,  and 
with  Neil's  help  led  him  gently  to  her  carriage;  and 
as  soon  as  he  reached  its  friendly  shelter  he  closed 
his  eyes  and  looked  like  one  dead.  Madame  was  in 
a  tempest  of  rage.  "It  is  just  like  the  ravening 
wolves,"  she  said.  "They  saw  an  opportunity  to 
rob  you, — you  need  not  tell  me,  I  know  Matthews! 
He  has  the  winter's  routs  and  dances  for  his  luxuri 
ous  wife  and  daughters  to  provide  for,  as  well  as 
what  he  calls  his  own  'damned  good  dinners.'  How 
much  did  he  mulct  you  in?  Never  mind  telling  me 
now,  Neil,  but  come  and  lunch  with  me  to-morrow ; 
I  shall  have  something  to  say  to  you  then." 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE     157 

She  had  the  Elder's  hand  in  her's  as  she  spoke, 
and  she  did  not  loosen  her  clasp  until  she  saw  him 
safely  at  his  own  home  and  in  the  care  of  his  wife. 
She  remained  a  few  moments  to  comfort  Madame 
Semple,  then,  divining  they  would  be  best  alone 
with  their  sorrow,  she  went  away  with  a  reminder 
to  Neil  that  she  wished  to  speak  to  him  privately  on 
the  following  day. 

"It  is  as  if  God  sent  her,"  said  Madame  grate 
fully. 

"Get  me  to  my  bed,  Janet,  dearie,"  said  the  Elder. 
"I'll  just  awa'  out  o'  this  warld  o'  sorrows  and 
wrongs  and  robbery." 

"You'll  just  stop  havering  and  talking  nonsense, 
Alexander.  Are  you  going  to  die  and  leave  me  my 
lane  for  a  bit  o'  siller?  I'm  ashamed  o'  you.  Twa 
or  three  hundred  pounds!  Is  that  what  you  count 
your  life  worth  ?  Help  your  father  to  his  bed,  Neil, 
and'  I'll  bring  him  some  gude  mutton  broth.  He's 
hungry  and  faint  and  out  o'  his  sleep — it  tak's  little 
to  make  men  talk  o'  dying.  Parfect  nonsense !" 

"You  don't  know,  Janet  Semple " 

"Yes,  I  do  know,  Alexander.  Quit  whining,  and 
put  a  stout  heart  to  a  steep  hill.  You  hae  a  wife  and 
sons  and  friends  yet  about  you,  and  you  talk  o' 
dying !  I'll  not  hear  tell  o'  such  things,  not  I !" 

But  when  the  Elder  had  taken  a  good  meal  and 
fallen  asleep,  Janet  spoke  with  less  spirit  to  her  son. 
And  Neil  was  in  a  still  fury ;  he  found  it  difficult  to 
answer  his  mother's  questions. 

"The  money  is  to  be  found,  and  that  at  once,"  he 
said.  "Father  will  not  rest  until  it  is  paid;  and  I 
have  not  the  least  idea  where  I  can  procure  it." 


158    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"You  must  sell  some  o'  that  confiscated  property 
you  and  your  father  wared  all  your  ready  money 
on,"  said  Janet  bitterly. 

"At  the  present  time  it  is  worth  nothing,  mother ; 
and  houses  and  lands  are  not  sold  at  an  hour's  no 
tice.  I  suppose  if  I  ask  Batavius  DeVries  he  will 
help  father.  I  think  Curtis  can  manage  my  share 
of  the  blackmail." 

"That  poor  lad  wha  has  made  a'  the  mischief, 
what  of  him?" 

"He  is  John  Bradley's  son."  Then  Neil  described 
the  scene  in  the  courtroom,  and  Madame's  eyes 
filled  with  tears  as  she  said,  "I  never  thought  so 
well  o'  the  Bradleys  before.  Poor  Agnes !" 

Yes,  "poor  Agnes!"  Neil  was  feeling  a  consum 
ing  impatience  to  be  with  her,  to  comfort  her  and 
help  her  to  bear  whatever  might  be  appointed. 

"So  the  lad  is  to  be  tried  in  the  Military  Police 
Court.  Is  not  that  a  good  thing  ?" 

"Yes.  John  Bradley  has  money.  It  is  all  the 
'law'  there  is  to  satisfy  in  that  court." 

"Are  they  trying  him  to-day?" 

"Yes.  I  heard  his  case  called  as  we  left  the 
room.  Where  is  Maria?" 

"She  has  cried  herself  blind,  deaf  and  dumb.  She 
is  asleep  now.  I  went  to  tell  her  you  were  name, 
and  she  was  sobbing  like  a  bairn  that  has  been 
whipped  ere  it  shut  its  eyes.  I  dinna  waken  her." 

Then  Neil  went  to  his  room  to  dress  himself.  He 
felt  as  if  no  care  and  no  nicety  of  apparel  could  ever 
atone  for  the  crumpled  disorder  of  his  toilet  in  the 
courtroom,  which  had  added  itself  so  keenly  to 
his  sense  of  disgrace.  Then  he  must  go  to  Agnes ; 


THE  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE    159 

her  brother  was  his  brother,  and,  though  he  had* 
brought  such  shame  and  loss  on  the  Semples,  still 
he  must  do  all  he  could  for  him,  for  the  sake  of 
Agnes.  And  there  was  the  money  to  find,  and  Ma 
dame  Jacobus  to  see!  A  sense  of  necessary  haste 
pressed  him  like  a  goad.  Not  a  moment  must  be 
lost,  for  he  felt  through  every  sense  of  his  mortal 
and  spiritual  being  that  Agnes  was  calling  him. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE. 

HE  heard  Agnes  calling  him,  and  he  resolved  to 
go  at  once  to  her.  And  never  had  he  looked  hand 
somer  than  at  this  hour,  for  he  had  clothed  himself 
with  that  rich  and  rigid  propriety  he  understood  so 
well  while  the  sense  of  injustice  under  which  he  so 
inwardly  burned  gave  to  him  a  haughty  dignity, 
suiting  his  grave  face  and  lofty  stature  to  admira 
tion.  He  went  very  softly  along  the  upper  corridor 
of  his  home,  but  Madame  heard  his  step,  and  open 
ing  her  door,  said  in  a  whisper : 

"Your  father  has  fallen  asleep,  Neil,  and  much 
he  needed  sleep.  Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  am  going  back  to  the  court.  I  wish  to  know 
what  has  been  clone  in  Bradley's  case." 

"Why  trouble  yourself  with  other  people's  busi 
ness?  The  lad  has  surely  given  us  sorrow  enough." 

"He  is  her  brother — I  mean— 

"I  know  who  you  mean ;  weel,  then,  go  your  way; 
neither  love  nor  wisdom  will  \vin  a  hearing  from 
you  on  that  road." 

"There  is  money  to  be  found  somewhere,  mother. 
Until  his  fine  is  paid,  father  will  be  miserable.  I 
want  to  borrow  the  amount  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Borrow!     Has  it  come  to  that?" 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     161 

"It  has,  for  a  short  time.  I  think  Captain 
DeVries  will  let  me  have  it.  He  ought  to." 

"He'll  do  naething  o'  the  kind.  I  would  ask  any 
other  body  but  him." 

"There  are  few  to  ask.  I  must  get  it  where  I 
can.  Curtis  will  advance  one  hundred  pounds  for 
me." 

"They  who  go  borrowing  go  sorrowing.  I'm 
vexed  for  you,  my  dear  lad.  It  is  the  first  time  I 
ever  heard  tell  o'  a  Semple  seeking  money  not  their 
ain." 

"It  is  our  own  fault,  mother.  If  father  and  I  had 
taken  your  advice  and  let  confiscated  property  alone 
we  should  have  had  money  to  lend  to-day;  cer 
tainly,  we  should  have  been  able  to  help  ourselves 
out  of  all  difficulties  without  asking  the  assistance 
of  strangers." 

The  confession  pleased  her.  "What  you  say  is 
the  truth,"  she  answered ;  "but  everybody  has  a  fool 
up  their  sleeve  some  time  in  their  life.  May  God 
send  you  help,  Neil,  for  I'm  thinking  it  will  hae  to 
come  by  His  hand;  and  somehow,  I  dinna  believe 
He'll  call  on  Batavius  DeVries  to  gie  you  it." 

With  these  words  she  retreated  into  her  room, 
closing  the  door  noiselessly,  and  Neil  left  the  house. 
As  soon  as  he  was  in  the  public  road  he  saw  Batavius 
standing  at  his  garden  gate,  smoking  and  talking 
with  Cornelius  Haring  and  Adrian  Rutgers.  They 
were  discussing  Bradley's  trouble  and  the  Semples's 
connection  with  it,  and  Neil  felt  the  spirit  of  their 
conversation.  It  was  not  kindly,  and  as  he  ap 
proached  them  Haring  and  Rutgers  walked  away. 
For  a  moment  Batavius  seemed  inclined  to  do  the 


162    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

same,  but  Neil  was  too  near  to  be  avoided  without 
intentional  offense,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "I  will 
stand  still."  Out  of  my  own  way  I  will  not  move, 
because  Neil  Semple  comes."  So  he  stolidly  con 
tinued  to  smoke,  staring  idly  before  him  with  a  gaze 
fixed  and  ruminating. 

"Good  afternoon,  Captain.  Are  you  at  liberty 
for  a  few  minutes  ?"  asked  Neil. 

"Yes.  What  then,  Mr.  Semple?  I  heard  tell, 
from  my  friends,  that  you  are  in  trouble." 

"We  have  been  fined  because  Mr.  Bradley's  son 
used  our  landing.  It  is  a  great  injustice,  for  in  this 
matter  we  were  as  innocent  as  yourself." 

"That  is  not  the  truth,  sir.  If,  like  me,  you  had 
boarded  in  your  house  a  few  soldiers,  then  the  care 
and  the  watch  would  have  been  their  business,  not 
yours.  Those  who  don't  act  prudently  must  feel 
the  chastisement  of  the  government ;  but  so !  I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  It  is  a  steady 
principle  of  mine  never  to  interfere  in  other  people's 
affairs." 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  interference.  The  case 
is  settled.  My  father  is  fined  two  hundred  pounds, 
a  most  outrageous  wrong." 

"Whoever  is  good  and  respectable  is  not  fined  by 
the  government." 

"In  our  case  there  was  neither  law  nor  justice. 
It  was  simple  robbery." 

"I  know  not  what  you  mean.  The  government  is 
the  King,  and  I  do  not  talk  against  either  King  or 
government.  The  Van  Emerlies,  who  are  always 
sneering  at  the  King,  have  had  to  take  twenty-seven 
per  cent,  out  of  the  estate  of  a  bankrupt  cousin ;  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     163 


the  Remsens,  who  are  discontented  and  always  full 
of  complaints,  have  spoiled  their  business.  God 
directs  things  so  that  contentment  leads  to  wealth." 

"I  was  speaking  of  neither  the  King  nor  his  gov 
ernment,  but  of  the  Military  Police  Court." 

"Oh!  Well,  then,  I  think  all  the  stories  I  hear 
about  its  greediness  and  tyranny  are  downright 
lies." 

"I  must,  however,  assert  that  this  court  has  been 
unjust  and  tyrannical  both  to  my  father  and  my 
self." 

"That  is  your  business,  not  mine." 

"I  was  in  hopes  that  you  would  feel  differently. 
My  father  has  often  helped  you  out  of  tight  places. 
I  thought  at  this  time  you  would  remember  that. 
There  was  that  cargo  at  Perth  Amboy,  but  for  my 
father,  it  had  gone  badly  with  you ! 

"Yes,  yes !  I  give  good  for  good,  but  not  to  my 
own  cost.  People  who  go  against  the  government 
and  are  in  trouble  are  not  my  friends.  I  do  not 
meddle  with  affairs  that  are  against  the  govern 
ment.  It  is  dangerous,  and  I  am  a  husband  and  a 
father,  not  a  fool." 

"To  assist  my  father  for  a  few  days,  till  I  can  turn 
property  into  money,  is  not  going  against  the  gov 
ernment." 

"You  will  not  turn  property  into  money  these 
days;  it  is  too  late.  I,  who  am  noted  for  my  pru 
dence,  got  rid  of  all  my  property  at  the  beginning 
of  the  war;  you  and  your  father  bought  other  peo 
ple's  houses,  while  I  sold  mine.  So!  I  was  right, 
as  I  always  am." 

"Then  you  had  no  faith  in  the  King's  cause,  even 


1 64    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

at  the  beginning;  and  I  have  heard  it  said  you  are 
not  unfriendly  now  to  the  rebels." 

"Ja!  I  give  the  Americans  a  little,  quietly.  One 
must  sail  as  the  wind  serves ;  and  who  can  tell  which 
way  it  will  blow  to-morrow?  I  am  a  good  sailor; 
never  shall  I  row  against  wind  and  tide.  Who  am 
I,  Batavius  DeVries,  to  oppose  the  government?  It 
is  one  of  my  most  sacred  principles  to  obey  the  gov 
ernment." 

"Then  if  the  Americans  succeed,  you  will  obey 
their  government?  Your  principles  are  changeable, 
Captain." 

"It  is  a  bad  principle  not  to  be  able  to  change  your 
principles.  The  world  is  always  changing.  I 
change  with  it.  That  is  prudent,  for  I  will  not  stand 
alone,  or  be  left  behind.  That  is  my  way;  your 
ways  do  not  suit  me." 

"This  talk  comes  to  nothing.  To  be  plain  with 
you,  I  want  to  borrow  two  hundred  pounds  for  a 
month.  I  hope  you  will  lend  it.  In  the  Perth 
Amboy  matter  my  father  stood  for  you  in  a  thou 
sand  pounds." 

"That  is  eaten  bread,  and  your  father  knew  I 
could  secure  the  money.  I  wish  I  could  help  Elder 
Semple,  but  it  would  not  be  prudent." 

"Good  gracious,  sir!" 

"Oh,  then,  you  must  keep  such  words  to  your 
self!  I  say  it  would  not  be  prudent.  He  has 
swamped  himself  with  other  men's  houses,  his  busi 
ness  is  decayed,  he  is  old ;  and  you  are  also  in  a  bad 
way  and  cannot  help  him,  or  why  do  you  come 
tome?" 

"I  can  give  you  good  security,  good  land " 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     165 

"Land!  What  is  good  land  to  me?  It  will  not 
be  useful  in  my  business.  And  there  is  another 
thing:  you  are  not  particular  in  your  company.  I 
have  heard  about  your  Methodist  friends;  there  is 
Vestryman  William  Ustick,  he  was  a  Methodist 
servant,  and  he  has  become  bankrupt ;  so,  then— 

"You  will  not  repay  my  father's  frequent  loans  to 
you.  If  your  father-in-law,  Joris  Van  Heemskirk, 
was  here — — " 

"I  am  not  Joris  Van  Heemskirk.  He  is  a  rebel.  I, 
who  have  always  been  loyal,  have  made  twelve  thou 
sand  dollars  this  last  year.  Is  not  that  a  hint  for 
me  to  go  on  in  the  right  way?" 

Without  waiting  for  the  end  of  this  self-compla 
cent  tirade,  Neil  went  forward.  Batavius  was  only  a 
broken  reed  in  his  hand.  Never  before  in  all  his 
life  had  he  felt  such  humiliating  anxiety.  Even 
the  slipping  away  of  Haring  and  Rutgers,  and  the 
uncivil  refusal  of  Batavius,  were  distinctly  new  and 
painful  experiences.  He  felt,  through  Haring  and 
Rutgers,  the  public  withdrawal  of  sympathy  and 
respect;  and  through  Batavius,  the  coming  bitter 
ness  of  the  want  of  ready  money.  The  Semples  had 
been  fined;  they  were  suspects;  their  names  would 
now  be  on  the  roll  of  the  doubtful,  and  it  would  be 
bad  policy  for  the  generality  of  citizens  to  be 
friendly  with  them.  And  the  necessity  for  borrow 
ing  money  revealed  poverty,  which  otherwise  they 
would  have  been  able  to  conceal.  He  knew,  also, 
that  he  would  have  to  meet  many  such  rebuffs,  and 
he  was  well  a\vare  that  his  own  proud  temper  would 
make  them  a  pleasant  payment  to  many  whom  he 
had  offended  by  his  exclusiveness. 


166    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

As  he  approached  the  Bradley  house  he  put  all 
these  bitter  thoughts  aside.  What  were  they  in 
comparison  with  the  sorrow  Agnes  was  compelled 
to  endure?  His  whole  soul  went  out  to  the  suffer 
ing  girl,  and  he  blamed  himself  for  allowing  any 
hope  of  Batavius  to  delay  him.  The  very  house 
had  taken  on  an  air  of  loneliness  and  calamity.  The 
door  was  closed,  the  blinds  down,  and  the  wintry 
frost  that  had  blackened  the  garden  seemed  in  some 
inscrutable  way  to  have  touched  the  dwelling  also. 
He  saw  the  slave  woman  belonging  to  the  Bradleys 
talking  to  a  group  of  negroes  down  the  road,  and 
he  did  not  call  her.  If  Agnes  was  within,  he  would 
see  her;  and  if  her  father  had  returned,  they  would 
probably  be  together. 

Thinking  thus,  he  knocked  loudly,  and  then  en 
tered  the  little  hall.  All  was  silent  as  the  grave. 
"Agnes!  Agnes!"  he  cried;  and  the  next  moment 
she  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  "Agnes!" 
he  cried  again,  and  the  word  was  full  of  love  and 
sorrow,  as  he  stretched  out  his  arms  to  the  descend 
ing  girl.  She  was  whiter  than  snow,  her  eyes  were 
heavy  and  dark  with  weeping,  her  hair  had  fallen 
down,  and  she  still  wore  the  plain,  blue  gingham 
dress  she  had  put  on  while  Maria  was  telling  her 
tragical  tale.  Yet  in  spite  of  these  tokens  of  men 
tal  disturbance,  she  was  encompassed  by  the  serene 
stillness  of  a  spirit  which  had  reached  the  height  of 
"Thy  will  be  done." 

When  her  father  left  her,  smitten  afresh  by  his 
anger  she  had  fled  to  her  room,  and  locking  the 
door  of  this  sanctuary,  she  had  sat  for  two  hours 
astonished,  stupefied  by  the  inevitable,  speechless 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     167 

and  prayerless.  Yet  while  she  was  musing  the 
fire  burned;  she  became  conscious  of  that  secret 
voice  in  her  soul  which  is  the  spirit  that  helpeth  our 
infirmities,  and  ere  she  was  aware  she  began  to 
pray.  It  was  as  if  she  stood  alone  in  some  great 
hall  of  the  universe,  with  an  infinite,  invisible  audi 
ence  of  spirits  watching  her.  Then  the  miracle  of 
the  ladder  between  heaven  and  earth  was  renewed, 
and  angels  of  help  and  blessing  once  more  ascended 
and  descended.  An  inward,  deep,  untroubled  peace 
calmed  the  struggle  of  her  soul;  one  by  one  the 
clouds  departed  and  the  light  steadily  grew  until 
fears  were  slain,  and  doubts  had  become  a  sure  con 
fidence  that 

Naught  should  prevail  against  her  or  disturb 
Her  cheerful  faith  that  all  which  looked  so  dark 
Was  full  of  blessing. 

She  was  sitting  waiting  when  she  heard  Neil's  call, 
and  Oh !  how  sweet  is  the  voice  of  love  in  the  hour 
of  anxious  sorrow!  She  never  thought  of  her  ap 
pearance  or  her  dress;  she  hasted  to  Neil,  and  he 
folded  her  to  his  heart  and  for  the  first  time  touched 
her  white  cheek  with  his  lips.  She  made  no  resist 
ance;  it  was  not  an  hour  for  coy  withdrawals,  and 
they  understood,  amid  their  silent  tears,  far  more 
than  any  future  words  could  explain. 

Then  Neil  told  her  all  that  had  happened,  and 
when  he  described  John  Bradley's  open  recognition 
of  his  son  she  smiled  proudly  and  said,  "That  was 
like  father.  If  I  had  been  there  I  would  have  done 
the  same.  It  is  a  long  time,"  she  said,  looking  anx 
iously  at  Neil.  "Will  father  soon  be  home?" 


168     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

4 'I  expected  to  find  him  here.  I  will  go  to  the 
court  now;  the  trial  ought  to  be  over." 

But  complications  had  arisen  in  what  at  first 
seemed  to  be  a  case  that  proved  itself.  Harry  was 
not  easily  managed.  He  admitted  that  he  had  been 
in  America  for  more  than  three  years,  but  declared 
that  his  father  had  been  totally  ignorant  of  his  pres 
ence.  When  asked  where  he  had  dwelt  and  how  he 
had  employed  himself  during  that  time,  he  gave  to 
every  question  the  same  answer,  "I  refuse  to  tell." 

Then  the  saddle  found  in  his  boat  was  brought 
forward,  and  he  was  asked  from  whom  he  received 
it  and  to  whom  he  was  taking  it.  And  to  both  these 
questions  there  was  the  same  reply,  "I  refuse  to  tell." 

"It  is  indisputably  a  Bradley  saddle,"  said  the 
assistant  magistrate,  DuBois.  "Let  John  Bradley 
identify  it." 

Bradley  came  forward,  looked  at  the  saddle,  and 
answered,  "I  made  it;  every  stitch  of  it." 

"For  whom?     Mr.  Bradley?" 

"I  should  have  fewr  saddles  to  make  if  I  talked 
about  my  patrons  in  this  place.  I  refuse  to  tell  for 
whom  I  made  it." 

"The  court  can  fine  you,  sir,  for  contempt  of  its 
requests." 

"I  would  rather  pay  the  fine  than  bring  my 
patron's  name  in  question  and  cause  him  annoy 
ance." 

There  was  considerable  legal  fencing  on  this  sub 
ject,  but  nothing  gained;  a  parcel  also  found  in  the 
boat  was  opened  and  its  contents  spread  out  for 
examination.  They  consisted  of  a  piece  of  damasse 
for  a  lady's  gown,  some  lace,  two  pairs  of  silk 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     169 


stockings,  two  pairs  of  gloves,  some  ribbon,  and  a 
fan  that  had  been  mended.  Everything  in  this  par 
cel  was  obviously  intended  for  a  woman,  but  Harry 
was  as  obdurately  noncommittal  as  he  had  been 
about  the  saddle.  Nothing  could  be  gained  by  con 
tinuing  an  examination  so  one-sided,  and  the  next 
witness  called  was  Captain  Ouentin  Macpherson. 
He  came  forward  with  more  than  his  usual  haughty 
clangor,  and  was  first  asked  if  he  had  ever  seen  the 
prisoner  before. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "for  about  half  an  hour  yes 
terday  evening,  say,  between  half-past  seven  and 
eight  o'clock." 

"Did  you  have  any  conversation  with  him?" 

"Very  little.  When  I  began  to  question  him 
about  his  residence  he  rose  and  went  away/' 

"Who  else  was  present?" 

"Miss  Bradley  and  Miss  Semple." 

"Tell  the  court  what  occurred  when  the  prisoner 
left." 

"Miss  Bradley  went  to  the  gate  with  him,  Miss 
Semple  remained  with  me.  I  noticed  that  she  was 
anxious,  and  found  my  company  disagreeable;  and 
suddenly  she  excused  herself  and  left  the  room.  As 
she  did  so  a  pebble  was  thrown  through  the  win 
dow7  ;  it  fell  at  my  feet ;  a  note  was  wrapped  round 
it,  and  I  read  the  note." 

There  has  a  low  hiss-s-s-s!  at  these  words,  which 
pervaded  the  whole  room.  Macpherson  waited 
until  it  had  subsided,  and  then  in  a  loud,  defiant 
voice  repeated  his  last  sentence,  "I  read  the  note, 
and  acted  upon  it." 

The  note  was  then  handed  to  him,  and  he  posi- 


iyo    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

tively  recognized  it,  and  as  it  was  not  his  note,  nor 
intended  for  him,  he  was  unable  to  protest  against 
DuBois's  reading  it  aloud.  It  made  a  pleasant  im 
pression.  Men  looked  at  the  boy  prisoner  sympa 
thetically,  and  a  little  scornful  laugh  pointed  the 
epithet  "that  Scot!"  which  infuriated  Macpherson. 

In  this  favorable  atmosphere  Mr.  Curtis  rose,  and 
sarcastically  advised  Judge  Matthews  that  it  was 
"evident  the  posse  of  Highland  soldiers  had  been 
called  out  to  prevent  a  lovers'  tryst  and  satisfy  the 
wounded  vanity  or  jealousy  of  Captain  Macpher 
son."  The  soldier  glared  at  the  lawyer,  and  the 
lawyer  smiled  and  nodded  at  the  audience,  as  if  tell 
ing  them  a  secret;  and  it  really  seemed  possible  for 
a  minute  or  two  that  Harry  might  escape  through 
the  never-failing  sympathy  that  lovers  draw  to 
themselves. 

Unfortunately,  at  this  moment  a  man  entered 
with  a  shabby-looking  little  book,  and  Harry's  face 
showed  an  unmistakable  anxiety. 

"What  is  the  purport  of  this  interruption?"  asked 
DuBois  as  the  volume  was  handed  to  him. 

"This  book  fell  from  the  prisoner's  jacket  last 
night  and  John  VanBrunt,  the  jailor,  picked  it  up. 
This  morning  he  noticed  that  it  had  been  freshly 
bound,  and  he  ripped  open  the  leather  and  found 
this  letter  between  the  boards." 

The  letter  was  eagerly  examined,  but  it  was  in 
cipher  and  nothing  could  be  made  of  it.  One  thing, 
however,  instantly  struck  Judge  Matthews;  it  was 
written  on  paper  presumably  only  to  be  obtained  in 
the  Commander-in-Chief's  quarters.  This  discov- 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     171 

ery  caused  the  greatest  sensation,  and  Harry  was 
angrily  questioned  as  to  how  the  letter  got  inside  the 
binding  of  a  book  he  was  carrying. 

"The  book  is  one  of  my  schoolbooks,"  said 
Harry.  "I  am  a  poor  counter,  and  it  is,  as  you  see, 
a  Ready  Reckoner.  I  use  its  tables  in  my  business 
calculations  constantly ;  it  was  falling  to  pieces,  and 
a  friend  offered  to  bind  it  afresh  for  me.  As  for 
the  letter,  I  did  not  put  it  there.  I  do  not  know 
who  put  it  there.  I  do  not  know  a  word  of  its  mean 
ing.  It  may  be  an  old  puzzle,  put  there  for  want 
of  a  better  piece  of  paper.  That  is  all  I  can  tell." 

"You  can  tell  the  name  of  the  friend  who  rebound 
your  book  ?" 

"No,  I  cannot." 

"Will  not,  you  mean?" 

"As  you  say." 

A  recess  was  taken  at  this  point  of  the  examina 
tion,  and  the  Judges  retired  to  consider  what  ought 
to  be  done.  "The  letter  must,  of  course,  be  laid 
before  General  Clinton  at  once,"  said  DuBois ;  "and 
as  for  the  prisoner,  there  can  now  be  no  doubt  of  his 
treason.  I  am  in  favor  of  hanging  him  at  sunset 
to-day." 

"I  think,"  answered  Matthews,  "we  had  better 
give  the  young  man  a  day  to  tell  us  what  he  knows. 
This  letter  proves  that  there  are  worse  traitors,  and 
more  powerful  ones,  behind  him.  It  is  our  duty  to 
at  least  try  and  reach  them  through  their  emissary." 

"He  will  never  tell." 

"The  shado\v  of  the  gallows  is  a  great  persuader. 
This  cipher  message  is  a  most  important  affair.  I 


172     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

propose  to  make  the  sentence  of  death  to-morrow  at 
sunset,  with  the  promise  of  life  if  he  gives  us  the  in 
formation  we  want." 

Matthews  carried  his  point,  and  Neil  Semple 
arrived  at  the  court  house  just  as  the  sentence  in 
accord  with  this  opinion  was  pronounced.  Harry 
hardly  appeared  to  notice  it ;  his  gaze  was  fixed  upon 
his  father.  The  words  had  transfigured,  not  petri 
fied  him.  His  soul  was  at  his  eyes,  and  that  fiery 
particle  went  through  those  on  whom  he  looked  and 
infected  them  with  fear  or  with  sympathy.  He  had 
risen  to  his  feet  when  his  son  did,  and  every  one 
looked  at  him,  rather  than  at  the  prisoner.  For 
mental,  or  spiritual,  stature  is  as  real  a  thing  as 
physical ;  and  in  the  day  of  trial  this  large-souled 
man,  far  from  shrinking,  appeared  to  grow  more 
imposing.  He  had  a  look  about  him  of  a  mountain 
among  hills.  The  accepted  son  of  a  divine  Father, 
he  knew  himself  to  be  of  celestial  race,  and  he 
scorned  the  sentence  of  shameful  death  that  had 
fallen  from  the  lips  of  man  upon  his  only  son. 

As  he  turned  to  the  door  he  smiled  bravely  on 
Harry,  and  his  smile  was  full  of  promise.  He  de 
clined  all  help  from  both  Medway  and  Semple,  and 
was  almost  the  first  to  leave  the  room.  The  crowd 
fell  away  from  him  as  he  passed ;  though  he  neither 
spoke  nor  moved  his  hands,  it  fell  away  as  if  he 
pushed  it  aside.  Yet  it  was  a  pitiful,  friendly 
crowd ;  not  a  man  in  it  but  would  have  gladly  helped 
him  to  save  his  boy's  life. 

"What  will  he  do?"  asked  Medway  of  his  com 
panion. 

"I  cannot  tell,"  answered  Semple.      "He  has  some 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     i 


73 


purpose,  for  he  walks  like  a  man  who  knows  what 
he  intends  and  is  in  a  hurry  to  perform  it." 

"This  is  a  very  bad  case.  I  see  not  how,  in  any 
ordinary  way,  the  young  man  can  be  saved.  You 
are  a  lawyer,  what  think  you  ?" 

"Unless  there  are  extraordinary  ways  of  helping 
him;  there  are  no  ordinary  ones.  He  is  undoubt 
edly  a  rebel  spy.  Any  court,  either  police  or  court- 
martial,  would  consider  his  life  justifiably  forfeit." 

"Have  you  any  influence,  secret  or  open  ?" 

"None  whatever.  If  I  had,  we  should  not  have 
been  fined.  Bradley  may  have,  but  I  doubt  it." 

"I  think  he  has.  Men  are  not  silent  and  observant 
year  after  year  for  nothing.  But  we  must  not  trust 
to  Bradley.  Can  I  see  Miss  Semple  at  seven  o'clock 
this  evening?  I  know,  madame  your  mother  is 
averse  to  Englishmen,  but  in  this  case — 

"Miss  Semple  will  certainly  see  you." 

Then  the  young  men  parted  and  Neil  returned 
to  his  home,  for  he  did  not  dare  to  intrude  his  pres 
ence  at  that  hour  between  the  distressed  father  and 
daughter.  It  was  hard  enough  to  have  Maria  to 
meet;  and  the  moment  she  heard  his  step  she  came 
weeping  to  him. 

"Tell  me,  Uncle  Neil,"  she  cried,  "what  have  they 
done  to  Harry?  I  am  sick  with  suspense.  Are 
they  going  to  kill — to  hang  him  ?" 

Her  voice  had  sunk  to  a  terrified  whisper,  and  he 
looked  pitifully  at  her  and  drew  her  within  his  em 
brace.  "My  dear  Maria!"  then  his  lips  refused 
to  say  more,  and  he  suffered  his  silence  to  con 
firm  her  worst  fears.  After  a  few  moments  he 
added : 


174      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"His  only  hope  is  in  Lord  Medway's  influence.  I 
think  Medway  may  do  something." 

"Oh!"  she  sobbed  "if  he  can  only  save  his  life!  I 
would  be  content  never  to  see  him  again !  Only  ask 
him  to  save  his  life.  If  Harry  is  killed  I  shall  feel 
like  a  murderer  as  long  as  I  live.  I  shall  not  dare 
to  look  at  myself,  no  one  will  want  to  look  at  me. 
I  shall  die  of  grief  and  shame !  Uncle,  pity  me !  pity 
me!" 

"My  dear  Maria,  it  is  not  your  fault." 

"It  is,  it  is !  He  took  his  life  in  his  hand  just  to 
see  me." 

"He  was  a  selfish  fool  to  do  such  a  thing.  See 
what  misery  he  has  made.  It  is  his  own  fault  and 
folly." 

"Every  one  will  despise  me.  I  cannot  bear  it. 
People  will  say,  'She  deserves  it  all.  Why  did  she 
meet  the  young  man  unknown  to  her  friends?  See 
what  she  has  done  to  her  grandparents  and  her 
uncle/  People  like  Captain  DeVries  will  frown  at 
me  and  cross  the  street;  and  their  wives  and  chil 
dren  will  go  into  their  houses  when  I  come  near  and 
peep  at  me  through  the  windows,  and  the  mothers 
will  say,  'Look  at  her !  look  at  her !  She  brought  a 
fine  young  man  to  the  gallows,  and  her  friends 
to  shame  and  poverty/  Uncle,  how  am  I  to 
bear  it?" 

"I  think,  my  poor  child,  Lord  Medway  has  some 
plan.  Money  unbars  all  doors  but  heaven's,  and 
Medway  has  plenty  of  money.  Besides,  General 
Clinton  is  easily  moved  by  him.  I  do  not  think  Clin 
ton  will  refuse  Medway  anything;  certainly  not,  if 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     175 

Harry  will  tell  who  wrote  the  cipher  message  he  was 
carrying." 

"But  Harry  will  not  tell,  will  he?" 

"I  feel  sure  he  will  not." 

"If  he  did,  he  would  deserve  to  die.  I  would  not 
shed  a  tear  for  him.  As  for  Quentin  Macpherson! 
— I  wish  that  I  was  a  man.  I  would  cut  his  tongue 
out." 

"Maria!" 

"I  would,  truly.  Then  I  would  flog  him  to 
death." 

Neil's  dark  face  flushed  crimson;  his  fingers 
twitched;  he  looked  with  approval  and  admiration 
at  the  passionate  girl.  One  hundred  years  ago — in 
Scotland,"  he  said,  "I  would  have  answered,  'Yes! 
He  deserves  it !  I  will  do  it  for  you !' ' 

"It  is  so  wretched  to  be  a  woman !  You  can  go 
out,  see  for  yourself,  hear  for  yourself;  a  girl  can 
only  suffer.  Hour  after  hour,  all  night  long,  all 
day  long,  I  have  walked  the  floor  in  misery.  How 
does  Agnes  bear  it?  She  was  cross,  and  sent  me 
away  this  morning." 

"She  looks  very  ill;  but  she  is  calm,  and  not  with 
out  hope.  She  has  spoken  to  God  and  been  com 
forted.  Can  you  not  do  so?" 

"No.  I  am  not  Agnes.  I  cannot  pray.  I  want 
to  do  something.  Oh,  dear  me!  all  this  shame  and 
sorrow  because  I  had  a  little  love-making  with  her 
brother  and  we  did  not  tell  the  whole  town  about  it. 
It  is  too  great  a  punishment!  It  is  not  just 
nor  kind.  What  wrong  have  I  done?  Yet  how 
I  have  to  suffer!  No,  I  cannot  pray,  but  if  I  can 


176    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

do  anything,  see  any  one,  be  of  any  earthly  help  or 

"I  think  Medway  has  some  scheme,  if  Clinton 
should  fail,  and  that  this  scheme  requires  a  woman's 
help." 

"I  hope  it  does!  I  hope  it  does!  I  will  run  any 
risk." 

"Medway  is  coming  here  at  seven  o'clock.  He 
wishes  distinctly  to  see  you.  Run  what  risk  you 
choose.  I  am  not  afraid  of  you.  Nothing  will 
make  you  forget  you  are  Maria  Semple." 

"Thank  you.  Uncle  Neil.  Lord  Medway  and  I 
have  always  been  good  friends.  He  will  not  ask 
me  to  do  anything  wrong;  and  if  he  did,  I  would 
not  clo  it." 

The  prospect  of  his  visit  somewhat  soothed 
Maria.  Though  Medway  had  never  said  a  word 
of  love  to  her,  she  knew  she  was  adorable  in  his 
eyes  as  well  as  she  knew  the  fact  of  her  own  exist 
ence.  Women  need  no  formal  declarations;  they 
have  considered  a  lover's  case  and  decided  it  many 
a  time  before  he  comes  to  actual  confession.  In  her 
great  trouble  she  hoped  to  find  this  love  sufficient 
in  some  way  for  the  alleviation  of  Harry's  desperate 
position.  But  though  she  really  was  in  the  greatest 
sorrow,  she  was  not  oblivious  to  her  beauty.  She 
knew  if  she  had  a  favor  to  ask,  it  was  the  best  reason 
she  had  to  offer.  So,  as  the  hour  approached,  she 
bathed  her  face  and  put  on  the  negligee  of  scarlet 
silk,  which  was  one  of  her  most  becoming  house 
costumes.  She  thought  her  intentional,  pleasing 
carelessness  of  dress  would  only  be  noticed  in 
its  effect;  but  Lord  Medway  was  much  in  love, 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     177 

and  love  is  an  occult  teacher.  Pie  noticed  at  once 
the  studied  effort  to  make  grief  attractive — the 
glowing  silk  of  her  gown,  the  bronze  slippers,  the 
bewitching  abandon  of  her  dark,  curling  hair 
against  the  amber  cushion  of  the  chair  on  which 
she  sat.  And  though  he  had  an  astonishing  plan 
for  Harry's  life  to  propose,  Maria's  careful  negli 
gence  gave  him  hope  and  courage.  For  if  he 
had  been  quite  indifferent  to  her,  she  would  have 
been  more  indifferent  to  the  dress  she  was  to  meet 
him  in. 

Nothing  else  in  her  surroundings  spoke  of  love 
or  happiness.  The  best  parlor  had  been  opened  for 
his  reception ;  but  the  few  sticks  of  wood  sobbed  and 
sung  wearily  on  the  cold  hearth,  and  the  room  was 
chill  and  half-lighted  and  full  of  shadows.  He  no 
ticed,  nothing,  however,  but  the  lovely  girl  who  came 
to  meet  him  as  he  entered  it,  and  who,  even  in  the 
gloom,  showed  signs  of  the  violent  grief  which  she 
soon  ceased  to  restrain.  For  his  tenderness  loosed 
afresh  all  her  complaining;  and  he  encouraged  her 
to  open  her  heart,  and  to  weep  with  that  passionate 
abandon  youth  finds  comfort  in.  But  when  she 
was  weary  and  had  sobbed  herself  into  silence  he 
said: 

"Miss  Semple — may  I  call  you  Maria?" 

"Yes,  if  you  will  be  my  friend,  if  you  will  help 
me." 

"I  am  your  friend,  and  if  there  is  help  in  man  I 
will  get  it  for  you." 

"I  want  Harry's  life;  he  risked  it  for  me.  If 
they  kill  him,  all  my  days  I  shall  see  that  sight  and 
feel  that  horror.  I  shall  go  mad,  or  die." 


178    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"Would  you  be  content  if  I  saved  his  life.  He 
may  be  sent  to  prison." 

"There  is  hope  in  that.     I  could  bear  it  better." 

"He  will  certainly  be  forbidden  to  come  near  New 
York,  for " 

"Only  let  him  live." 

"He  is  without  doubt  a  rebel." 

"So  am  I,  from  this  day  forth." 

"And  a  spy." 

"I  wish  I  could  be  one.  There  is  nothing  I  would 
not  tell." 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  unreasoning  adoration 
of  a  lover;  then  taking  her  cold  hands  between  his 
own,  he  said  in  a  slow,  fervent  voice : 

"If  you  will  promise  to  marry  me,  I  will  save  the 
young  man's  life." 

"You  are  taking  advantage  of  my  trouble." 

"I  know  I  am.  A  man  who  loves  as  I  do  must 
make  all  events  go  to  further  his  love." 

"But  I  love  Harry  Bradley." 

"You  think  so.  If  you  had  met  him  under  ordi 
nary  circumstances  you  would  not  have  looked  twice 
at  him.  It  was  the  romance,  the  secrecy,  the  dan 
ger,  the  stolen  minutes — all  that  kind  of  thing. 
There  is  no  root  in  such  love." 

"I  shall  never  cease  to  love  Harry." 

"I  will  teach  you  to  forget  him." 

"No,  no!  How  can  you  ask  me  in  an  hour  like 
this?  It  is  cruel." 

"Love  is  cruel.  Sooner  or  later  love  wounds ;  for 
love  is  selfish.  I  want  you  for  my  wife,  Maria.  I 
put  aside  so,"  and  he  swept  his  hand  outward, 
"everything  that  comes  in  the  way." 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     179 

"You  want  to  buy  me!  You  say  plainly,  'I  will 
give  you  your  lover's  life  for  yourself.'  I  cannot 
listen  to  you!" 

"Be  sensible,  Maria.  This  infatuation  for  a  rebel 
spy  is  infatuation.  There  is  nothing  real  to  it.  If 
the  war  were  over,  and  you  saw  young  Bradley  help 
ing  his  father  in  his  shop  and  going  about  in  ordi 
nary  clothes  about  ordinary  business,  you  would 
wonder  what  possessed  you  ever  to  have  fancied 
yourself  in  love  with  him." 

"Oh,  but  you  are  mistaken !" 

"You  would  say  to  yourself,  'I  wish  I  had  listened 
to  Ernest  Medway.  He  would  have  taken  me  all 
over  the  happy,  beautiful  world,  to  every  lovely 
land,  to  every  splendid  court.  He  would  have  sur 
rounded  me  with  a  love  that  no  trouble  could  put 
aside;  he  would  have  given  me  all  that  wealth  can 
buy;  he  would  have  loved  me  more  and  more  until 
the  very  last  moment  of  my  life,  and  followed  me 
beyond  life  with  longings  that  would  soon  have 
brought  us  together  again.'  Yes,  Maria,  that  is 
how  I  love  you." 

"Harry  loves  me." 

"Not  he!  If  he  had  loved  you  he  would  not,  for 
his  own  pleasure,  have  run  any  risk  of  giving  you 
this  trouble.  What  did  I  say  ?  Love  is  selfish,  love 
wounds " 

"You  wound  me.      You  are  selfish." 

"I  am.  I  love  you.  You  seemed  to  belong  to 
me  that  first  hour  I  saw  you.  I  will  not  give  you 
up." 

"If  you  really  loved  me,  if  you  were  really  noble, 
you  would  save  Harry  without  any  conditions." 


180    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Perhaps.  I  am  not  really  noble.  I  can't  trust 
such  fine  sentiments.  They  will  lead,  I  know  not 
where,  only  away  from  you.  I  tell  you  plainly,  I 
will  save  the  young  fellow's  life,  if  it  be  possible, 
on  condition  that  you  promise  to  marry  me.'1 

"I  am  not  eighteen  years  old  yet." 

"I  will  \vait  any  reasonable  time." 

"Till  the  end  of  the  war?" 

"Yes,  provided  it  is  over  when  you  are  twenty- 


one." 


She  pondered  this  answer,  looking  up  covertly  a 
moment  at  the  handsome,  determined  face  watching 
her.  Three  years  held  innumerable  possibilities. 
It  wras  a  period  very  far  away.  Lord  Medway 
might  have  ceased  to  love  her  before  it  was  over; 
he  might  have  fallen  in  love  with  some  other  girl. 
He  might  die;  she  might  die;  the  wide  Atlantic 
ocean  might  be  between  them.  The  chances  were 
many  in  her  favor.  She  remained  silent,  considering 
them,  and  Medway  watched  with  a  curious  devotion 
the  expressions  flitting  across  her  face. 

"Think  well,  Maria,"  he  said  at  last,  letting  her 
hands  drop  gently  from  his  own.  "Remember  that 
I  shall  hold  you  to  every  letter  of  your  promise.  Do 
not  try  to  make  yourself  believe  that  if  Bradley  es 
capes  and  you  come  weeping  and  entreating  to  me 
I  shall  give  way.  /  shall  not.  I  want  to  be  very 
plain  with  you.  I  insist  that  you  understand,  Harry 
Bradley  is  to  be  given  up  finally  and  forever.  He 
is  to  have  no  more  to  do  with  your  life.  I  am  plan 
ning  for  our  future:  I  do  not  think  of  him  at  all. 
When  he  leaves  New  York  to-morrow  he  must  be 
to  you  as  if  he  had  never  been." 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     181 

''Suppose  I  do  not  promise  to  marry  you,  what 
then?" 

"Nothing.  I  shall  go  away  till  you  want  me, 
and  send  for  me." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes." 

"And  not  even  try  to  save  Harry's  life?  Not 
even  try?" 

"Why  should  I  ?  Better  men  than  Harry  Bradley 
have  died  in  the  same  cause." 

She  rose  and  walked  across  the  room  a  few  times, 
and  then,  being  cold,  came  back  to  the  fire,  knelt  on 
the  rug  and  warmed  her  hands.  He  watched  her 
intently,  but  did  not  speak.  She  was  trying  to  find 
something  which  should  atone  to  her  better  self  for 
such  a  contract.  It  came  with  the  thought  of  Harry's 
father  and  Agnes.  For  their  sakes,  she  ought  to  do 
all  she  could.  Harry,  for  her  sake,  had  taken  his  life 
in  his  hand  and  forfeited  it ;  surely,  then,  it  was  right 
that  she,  having  the  power  to  do  so,  should  re 
deem  it.  Better  that  he  should  live  for  others  than 
die  for  her.  Better  that  she  should  lose  him  in  the 
living  world  than  in  the  silent  grave.  Through 
Agnes  she  would  hear  of  his  comings  and  goings, 
his  prosperity,  and  his  happiness;  but  there  would 
come  no  word  to  her  from  the  dead  whether  at  all 
he  lived  and  loved,  or  not.  With  a  quick,  decisive 
motion  she  rose  and  looked  at  the  man  who  was 
waiting  in  such  motionless,  but  eager,  silence. 

"A  life  for  a  life!"  she  said  simply,  offering  Med- 
way  her  hand. 

"You  mean  that  you  will  be  my  wife?" 

"Yes.     I  will  marry  you  when  the  war  is  over." 


i8a    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Or  when  you  are  twenty-one,  even  if  it  be  not 
over?" 

"Yes." 

"Now,  then,"  he  said,  "you  are  my  betrothed;" 
and  he  drew  her  within  his  arm.  "My  honor,  my 
hopes,  my  happiness,  are  in  your  hands." 

"They  are  safe.  Though  I  am  only  a  girl,  I  know 
what  my  promise  means.  I  shall  keep  it." 

"I  believe  you.  And  you  will  love  me?  You  will 
learn  to  love  me,  Maria?" 

"I  will  do  my  best  to  make  you  happy,  you  ought 
not  to  ask  more." 

"Very  well."  He  looked  at  her  with  a  new  and 
delightful  interest.  She  was  his  own,  her  promise 
had  been  given.  He  could,  indeed,  tell  by  her  eyes, 
—languid,  but  obstinately  masterful — that  she 
would  not  be  easily  won,  but  he  did  not  dislike  that ; 
he  would  conquer  her  by  the  strength  of  his  own 
love ;  he  would  make  her  understand  what  love  really 
meant.  Still,  he  felt  that  for  the  present  it  would 
be  better  to  go  away ;  so  he  said : 

"You  shall  hear  from  me  as  soon  as  possible. 
Try  and  sleep,  my  dear  one.  You  may  tell  your 
self,  'Ernest  is  doing  all  that  can  be  done/  Then 
he  took  her  hands  and  kissed  them,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  she  was  alone.  Her  heart  was  heavy  as  lead, 
and  she  was  cold  and  trembling,  but  she  was  no 
longer  in  the  shadow  of  Death.  Medway's  face, 
turned  to  her  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  open  door, 
was  full  of  hope;  and  there  was  an  atmosphere  of 
power  about  the  man  which  assured  her  of  success ; 
but  she  truly  felt  at  that  hour  as  if  it  was  bought 
with  her  life.  She  was  in  the  dungeon  of  despair; 


THE  PRICE  OF  HARRY'S  LIFE     183 

there  seemed  nothing  to  hope  for,  nothing  to  desire, 
in  all  the  to-morrows  of  the  years  before  her.  "And 
I  may  have  sixty  years  to  live,"  she  moaned;  for 
youth  exaggerates  every  feeling,  and  would  be 
grieved  to  believe  that  its  sorrows  were  not  im 
mortal. 

She  pushed  the  dying  fire  safely  together,  looked 
mournfully  round  the  darksome  room,  closed  and 
locked  the  door.  Then  Neil  came  toward  her  and 
asked  if  Lord  Medway  could  do  anything,  and  she 
answered,  "He  can  save  Harry's  life;  he  has  prom 
ised  that.  I  suppose  he  will  be  imprisoned,  but  his 
life  is  saved.  What  did  grandmother  say  about 
Lord  Medway  being  here?" 

"She  has  never  been  down  stairs.  She  does  not 
know  he  was  here." 

"Then  we  will  not  tell  her.     What  is  the  use?" 

"None  at  all.  Father  and  mother  have  their  own 
trouble.  They  are  very  anxious  and  almost  broken 
hearted  at  the  indignity  put  upon  our  family.  I 
heard  my  father  crying  as  I  passed  his  door  and 
mother  trying  to  comfort  him,  but  crying,  too.  It 
made  my  heart  stand  still." 

"It  is  my  fault!  It  is  my  fault!  Oh!  what  a 
wicked,  miserable  girl  I  am !  What  can  I  do  ?  What 
can  I  do?" 

"Try  and  sleep,  and  get  a  little  strength  for  to 
morrow.  Within  the  next  twenty-four  hours  Harry 
Bradley  will  be  saved  or  dead." 

"I  think  he  is  saved.      I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Then  try  and  sleep;  will  you  try,  Maria?" 

"Yes." 

She  said  the  word  with  a  hopeless  indifference, 


1 84    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

half  nullifying  the  promise.  Then,  lighting  her 
candle,  she  went  slowly  to  her  room.  Oh,  but  the 
joy  that  is  dead  weighs  heavy !  Maria  could  hardly 
trail  her  body  upstairs.  Her  life  felt  haggard  and 
thin,  as  if  it  was  in  its  eleventh  hour;  and  she  was 
too  physically  exhausted  to  stretch  out  her  hand  into 
the  dark  and  find  the  clasp  of  that  Unseen  Hand 
always  waiting  the  hour  of  need,  strong  to  uphold, 
and  ready  to  comfort.  No,  she  could  not  pray; 
she  had  lost  Harry;  there  was  nothing  else  she  de 
sired.  In  her  room  there  was  a  picture  of  the  cru 
cifixion,  and  she  cast  her  eyes  up  to  the  Christ  hang 
ing  there,  forsaken  in  the  dark,  and  wondered  if  He 
pitied  her.  but  the  pang  of  unpermitted  prayer  made 
her  dumb  in  her  lonely  grief. 

Alas,  God  Christ!  along  the  weary  lands, 
What  lone,  invisible  Calvaries  are  set ! 
What  drooping  brows  with  dews  of  anguish  wet, 
What  faint  outspreading  of  unwilling  hands 
Bound  to  a  viewless  cross,  with  viewless  bands. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN. 

ON  leaving  Maria,  Lord  Medway  went  straight 
to  his  friend  General  Clinton.  He  had  just  dined, 
and  having  taken  much  wine,  was  bland  and  good- 
tempered.  Medway's  entrance  delighted  him.  "I 
have  had  my  orderly  riding  about  for  a  couple  of 
hours  looking  for  you,"  he  said.  "Where  have  you 
been  Ernest?  My  dinner  wanted  flavor  without 
you." 

"I  have  been  seeing  some  people  about  this  son  of 
Bradley's  that  the  Police  Court  has  in  its  clutches. 
By-the-bye,  why  don't  you  put  a  stop  to  its  infamous 
blackmailing?  As  a  court,  it  is  only  a  part  of 
Howe's  treachery,  formed  for  the  very  purpose  of 
extortion,  and  of  bringing  His  Majesty's  Govern 
ment  into  disrepute.  Abolish  the  whole  affair, 
Henry.  You  are  court  sufficient,  in  a  city  under 
martial  law." 

"All  you  say  is  true,  Ernest,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  Matthews  and  Du  Bois  and  the  rest  of  them  are 
the  worst  of  oppressors.  But  I  am  expected  to  sub 
jugate  the  whole  South  this  winter,  and  I  must  leave 
New  York  in  three  or  four  weeks  now." 

"The    Government    expects    miracles    of    you, 


186    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

Henry;  but  if  military  miracles  are  possible,  you 
are  the  soldier  to  work  them.  I  have  found  out  to 
day  why  you  are  not  more  popular ;  it  is  this  Police 
Court,  and  they  call  it  a  Military  Police  Court,  I  be 
lieve;  and  all  its  tyrannies  are  laid  to  you  because 
your  predecessor  instituted  it.  They  might  as  well 
lay  Howe's  love  for  rebels  to  you." 

"Speaking  of  rebels,  I  hear  most  suspicious  things 
of  Bradley's  son.  In  fact,  he  is  a  spy.  Matthews 
tells  me  that  he  ought  to  have  been  hung  to-day. 
There  is  something  unusual  about  the  affair  and  I 
wanted  to  talk  to  you  concerning  it.  Bradley  him 
self  has  been  here  and  said  things  that  have  made 
me  uncomfortable — you  know  how  he  brings  the 
next  world  into  this  one;  Smith  has  been  here,  also, 
asking  me  to  pardon  the  fellow,  because  the  feeling 
in  the  city  about  Tryon's  doings  in  Connecticut  is 
yet  like  smoldering  fire  in  the  hearts  of  the  bur 
ghers.  Powell  has  been  here  asking  me  to  pardon, 
because  the  spy's  father  has  a  thousand  bridles  to 
make  for  the  troops  going  South,  and  he  thinks 
hanging  the  youth  would  kill  his  father,  or  at  least 
incapacitate  him  for  work,  and  Rivington  has  just 
left,  vowing  he  will  not  answer  for  consequences  if 
his  newspaper  does  not  sympathize  with  the  Brad- 
leys.  If  Bradley's  son  had  been  the  arch-rebel's 
son,  there  could  hardly  have  been  more  petitions  for 
his  life.  I  don't  understand  the  case.  What  do 
you  say?" 

"That  Matthews  and  Du  Bois  have  made  a  tre 
mendous  blunder  in  fining  the  Semples  for  disloy 
alty  in  the  matter.  I  will  warrant  the  Semples'  loy 
alty  with  my  own." 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     187 

"So  would  I.     It  is  indisputable." 

"Yet  the  Elder  has  been  fined  two  hundred 
pounds,  and  Mr.  Neil  Semple  one  hundred  pounds, 
because  Bradley' s  son  tied  his  boat  at  their  landing; 
a  fact  they  were  as  ignorant  of  as  you  or  I.  And 
you  get  the  blame  and  ill-will  of  such  tyranny, 
Henry.  It  is  shameful !" 

"It  is,"  answered  Clinton  in  a  tone  of  self-pity; 
"the  boat,  however,  was  full  of  goods,  about  which 
the  young  man  would  say  nothing  at  all" 

"Women's  bits  of  lace  and  ribbons;  a  mended 
fan,  and  some  gloves  and  stockings." 

"There  was  also  a  Bradley  saddle." 

"Yes,  Bradley  acknowledged  it." 

"Then  father  or  son  ought  to  have  given  informa 
tion  about  it." 

"It  was  their  business;  and  if  either  you  or  I 
were  brought  before  such  an  irresponsible  court  and 
such  autocratic  judges,  I  dare  say  we  should  con 
sider  silence  our  most  practical  weapon  of  defense. 
In  Harry  Bradley's  position,  I  should  have  acted 
precisely  as  he  did.  The  whole  affair  resolves  itself 
into  a  lovers'  tryst ;  the  lad  would  not  give  the  lady 
a  disagreeable  publicity;  he  would  die  first.  You 
yourself  would  shield  any  good  woman  with  your 
life,  Henry,  you  know  you  would." 

And    Clinton    thought   of   the   bewitching   Mrs. 

Badely  and  the  lovely  Miss  Blundell,  and  answered 

with  an  amazing  air  of  chivalry,  "Indeed  I  would!" 

"Have  you  ever  noticed  a  Captain  Macpherson, 

belonging  to  your  own  Highland  regiment?" 

"Who  could  help  noticing  him  ?  He  is  always  the 
most  prominent  figure  in  every  room." 


188    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"He  will  be  so  no  longer.  He  was  almost  hissed 
out  of  court  to-day,  and  I  was  told  the  demonstra 
tions  on  the  street  sent  him  stamping  and  swearing 
to  his  quarters.  Well,  he  is  the  villain  of  this  piti 
ful  little  drama.  The  heroine  is  that  lovely  grand 
daughter  of  Semples." 

"I  know  her;  a  little  darling!  and  as  good  as  she 
is  beautiful." 

Then  Medway,  with  an  inimitable  scornful  mimi 
cry  told  the  story  of  the  pebble  and  the  note,  the 
alarm  of  the  Highland  troops,  the  arrest  of  the 
Elder  and  his  son,  the  subsequent  proceedings  in 
court,  the  sympathy  of  the  people  with  the  Semples, 
and  the  contempt  which  no  one  tried  to  conceal  for 
the  informer.  Then,  changing  his  voice  and  atti 
tude,  he  described  Bradley's  speechless  grief,  the 
Sample's  wounded  loyalty  and  indignation,  and  fin 
ally  the  passionate  sorrow  of  the  mistress  and  sister 
of  the  doomed  man. 

"It  is  the  most  pitiful  story  of  the  age,"  he  con 
tinued,  "and  if  I  were  you,  Henry,  I  would  not  per 
mit  civilians  to  usurp  the  power  you  ought  to  hold 
in  your  own  hand.  You  have  to  bear  the  blame  of 
all  the  crimes  committed  by  this  infamous  court. 
Pardon  the  prisoner  with  a  stroke  of  your  pen,  if 
only  to  put  these  fellows  in  their  proper  place." 

"But  there  was  a  cipher  message  in  his  possession 
—here  it  is.  It  was  in  the  binding  of  a  book  he  car 
ried  in  his  pocket." 

"He  says  he  did  not  put  it  there.  No  one  can 
read  it.  If  you  found  a  letter  in  the  Babylonish 
speech,  would  you  hang  a  man  because  you  could  not 
read  the  message  he  carried !" 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     189 

" Special  pleading,  Ernest.  And  he  ought  to  have 
told  who  rebound  the  book,  and  to  whom  he  was 
carrying  it.  The  paper  on  which  the  cipher  is  writ 
ten  is  my  paper.  Some  one,  not  far  from  me,  must 
have  taken  it." 

"Suppose  you  question  Smith?" 

"Do  you  intend  to  say  that  Smith  is  a  traitor?" 

"I  say,  ask  Smith.  I  have  no  doubt  he  can  read 
the  Babylonish  for  you — if  he  will." 

"You  alarm  me.     Am  I  surrounded  by  enemies  ?" 

"I  think  you  have  many  round  you.  I  have 
warned  you  often.  My  advice  to  you  at  this  time  is 
to  pardon  young  Bradley." 

"Why  are  you  taking  such  an  interest  in  young 
Bradley?" 

"I  have  no  secrets  from  you,  he  is  my  rival." 

"Preposterous !  How  could  he  rival  you  in  any 
thing?" 

"Yet  he  is  my  rival  in  the  affections  of  Maria 
Semple." 

"Then  let  him  hang!  He  will  be  out  of  your 
way." 

"No,  he  would  be  forever  in  my  way.  She  would 
idolize  him,  make  him  a  hero  and  a  saint,  and  wor 
ship  him  in  some  secret  shrine  of  memory  as  long  as 
she  lives.  I  am  going  to  marry  her,  and  I  want  no 
secret  shrines.  He  is  a  very  good-looking,  ordinary 
young  man ;  only  the  circumstances  of  the  time  lifted 
him  out  of  the  average  and  the  commonplace.  Let 
him  go  scot  free  that  he  may  find  his  level  which  is 
far  below  the  horizon  of  my  peerless  Maria." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  let  him  go  'scot  free,'  Ernest. 
I  should  offend  many  if  I  did,  and  it  would  be  made 


190  A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

a  precedent ;  suppose  I  imprison  him  during  the  con 
tinuance  of  the  war!" 

"That  is  too  romantic.  Maria  would  haunt  the 
prison  and  contrive  some  way  of  communication. 
He  would  still  be  her  hero  and  her  lover." 

"And  you  will  marry  this  infatuated  girl?" 

"Yes,  a  thousand  times,  yes!  Her  love  for  that 
boy  is  mere  sentiment.  I  will  teach  her  what  love 
really  means.  She  has  promised  to  marry  me — if  I 
save  Harry  Bradley's  life." 

"I  never  saw  you  taken  so  with  any  woman  be 
fore." 

"I  never  cared  for  a  woman  before.  The  mo 
ment  I  saw  Maria  Semple  it  was  different.  I  knew 
that  she  belonged  to  me.  Henry,  you  are  my  best 
friend,  give  me  my  wife;  no  one  but  you  can  do  so." 

"Ernest !  Ernest !     You  ask  a  great  thing." 

"Not  too  great  for  you  to  grant.  You  have  the 
will  and  you  have  the  power.  Are  you  not  going 
to  make  me  happy,  Henry  ?" 

"Privately,  it  would  be  a  delight  to  humor  you, 
Ernest;  but  officially,  what  am  I  to  say  to  Mat 
thews,  Du  Bois  and  others." 

"Tell  them,  that  as  a  matter  of  military  policy, 
you  wish  the  prisoner  released.  Why  should  you 
make  explanations  to  them?  Oh,  they  are  such 
courtiers,  they  will  smile  and  do  all  you  wish  ?  You 
are  above  their  rascally  court;  reverse  their  decis 
ion  in  this  affair  and  show  them  your  power.  Be 
lieve  me,  it  will  be,  politically,  a  wise  step." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
Clinton  said:  "I  am  sorry  for  the  Semples.  I  like 
them  both,  and  there  is  something  about  the  saddler 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     191 

that  sets  him  above  other  men.  But  it  would  not  be 
right  to  let  this  young  spy — for  he  is  a  spy — off, 
without  some  punishment/' 

"I  think  that  is  right." 

"He  must  be  told  that  he  will  be  shot  on  sight  if 
he  enters  New  York  again." 

"He  will  deserve  it." 

"And  I  will  have  him  drummed  out  of  the  city 
as  a  rogue  and  a  suspect.  We  will  make  no  hero  of 
him — quite  the  contrary." 

"I  oppose  nothing  of  that  kind.  I  ask  for  his  life 
and  his  freedom,  because  he  stands  between  Maria 
Semple  and  myself.  If  I  wanted  any  other  reason, 
because  I  thoroughly  respect  his  father,  and  am  on 
excellent  terms  with  his  sister,  who  has  been  very 
hospitable  to  me  and  who  is  a  remarkable  girl.  It 
has  troubled  me  to-day  to  remember  her  lonely  sor 
row  and  anxiety." 

"You  have  given  me  three  good  reasons  for  grant 
ing  your  request,  and  have  omitted  the  strongest  of 
all,  Ernest." 

"What  is  that,  Henry?" 

"That  I  love  you." 

"And  I  love  you.  You  have  always  been  like  a 
big  brother  to  me;  always  petted  me  and  humored 
my  desires." 

"Well,  then,  I  will  see  Matthews  and  Du  Bois 
in  the  morning." 

"Send  for  them  here  to-night.  If  their  court  is 
a  Military  Police  Court,  you  are  Commander-in- 
Chief." 

"Right !  I  will  send  for  them.  It  is  only  about 
nine  o'clock.'' 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


"And  you  will  insist  that  the  prisoner  be  given  his 
life  and  freedom  —  nothing  less?" 

"I  give  you  my  word  for  it.  But  I  will  have  him 
punished  as  I  said.  He  must  be  prevented  from 
coming  to  New  York  again.  This  kind  of  thing 
can  not  happen  twice." 

"I  know.  If  words  could  thank  you,  Henry,  I 
would  say  them." 

"Nonsense,  Ernest;  what  are  words  between  us? 
We  know  each  other's  heart;"  then  he  laid  his  arm 
across  his  friend's  shoulder  and  their  hands  clasped  ; 
there  was  no  need  of  words. 

Very  early  in  the  morning  Maria  and  Agnes  re 
ceived  the  good  tidings.  Maria  was  asleep  when 
Med  way's  letter,  with  a  basket  of  hot-house  fruit 
was  brought  to  her.  Agnes  was  making  her  fa 
ther's  coffee,  and  they  both  looked  at  the  unexpected 
letter  with  a  fearful  anticipation.  But  as  soon  as 
Agnes  glanced  at  it,  she  perceived  that  it  brought 
good  news,  and  she  gave  it  to  her  father.  She  could 
not  speak,  and  for  a  few  minutes  Bradley  was 
equally  silent.  Not  that  they  were  ungrateful,  oh, 
no!  They  were  only  inarticulate.  They  had  a 
gratitude  so  deep  and  holy  that  they  had  no  words 
with  which  to  express  it;  and  when  the  happy  fa 
ther  found  speech,  it  was  weak  and  tremulous  as 
that  of  a  man  in  the  last  extremity.  "I  was  brought 
low,  and  He  helped  me!"  That  was  all,  but  he 
stood  up,  steadying  himself  by  his  chair,  and  uttered 
the  verse  with  a  reverence  and  holy  joy  that  no  lan 
guage  can  describe. 

In  a  little  while  he  began  to  talk  to  his  daughter. 
"I  knew  God  would  not  fail  me,"  he  said.  "Yester- 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     193 

day  afternoon  I  did  all  I  could,  and  then  1  left  the 
rest  with  Him.  I  saw  General  Clinton  and  said  a 
few  words  which  he  could  not  gainsay.  I  saw 
Smith,  and  told  him  plainly  if  Harry  died,  he 
should  translate  that  cypher  message  to  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief.  I  saw  Powell,  and  many  others, 
whom  I  hold  at  my  mercy,  and  they  know  that  now, 
if  they  never  knew  it  before.  Andrews  left  New 
York  an  hour  after  I  saw  him ;  he  is  a  fearful  crea 
ture  and  he  believed  I  would  speak,  though  Harry 
had  been  silent ;  well,  I  must  see  the  boy  as  soon  as 
possible,  there  is  certain  to  be  some  difficulty  that 
only  gold  can  overcome.  I  hope  they  will  not  im 
prison  him." 

"Lord  Medway  says,  he  will  be  set  free." 

"Thank  God !" 

He  rose  with  the  words  and  Agnes  brought  him 
his  top-coat.  Then,  as  they  stood  face  to  face,  she 
was  shocked  at  the  ravage  thirty  hours  of  travail  in 
the  shadow  of  death  had  made  on  him.  "Father," 
she  said,  "oh,  father,  forgive  me!  I  did  wrong  to 
deceive  you !  I  did  wrong !" 

"Yes,  my  girl,  you  did  wrong;  and  nothing  right 
can  come  from  wrong;  but  Agnes,  I  have  been 
worse  than  you.  I,  also,  have  been  living  a  deceit 
ful  life,  thinking  that  the  end  justified  the  means. 
I  set  ynt  the  example.  Your  fault  is  my  fault.  We 
have  both  been  trying  to  do  the  right  thing  in  our 
ozvn  way.  We  have  been  patriots,  as  Nicodemus 
was  a  Christian — by  night.  That  is  wrong.  We 
must  do  right  first  hand,  not  second  hand.  From 
this  hour  that  kind  of  thing  will  be  sinning  with  our 
eyes  open;  it  will  be  looking  God's  Commandment? 


194    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

in  the  face,  and  then  breaking  them.  Do  you  un 
derstand,  Agnes?" 

Then  he  went  away,  and  Agnes  tried  to  turn  to 
her  household  duties.  She  wondered  if  Maria 
would  come  and  see  her  or  if  she  ought  to  go  to 
Maria,  and  while  she  was  debating  the  question 
Neil  called.  He  was  much  depressed.  The  good 
news  about  Harry  only  affected  him  through  Agnes, 
and  he  was  very  anxious  about  his  father,  who  was 
in  a  high  fever  and  was  constantly  talking  of  his 
fine  and  his  inability  to  pay  it.  "Maybe  I'll  hae  to 
go  to  prison  for  the  debt,"  was  his  constant  cry,  and 
Neil  felt  that  his  father's  fine  must  be  satisfied,  no 
matter  at  what  cost.  So  it  was  a  troubled  little 
visit;  the  day  before  each  was  so  uncertain,  so  full 
of  probabilities  which  the  slightest  momentum  might 
divert  to  either  joy  or  sorrow.  They  could  not  feel 
that  their  congratulations  were  full  ripe ;  something 
might  yet  happen  to  destroy  their  hopes. 

Neil  went  first  to  his  office.  He  found  Mr.  Cur 
tis  preparing  for  the  court,  and  as  yet  unaware  of 
the  decision  in  Harry's  case;  "but  it  is  a  great  piece 
of  good  luck  for  the  young  scamp,"  he  said,  when 
Neil  told  him,  "for  he's  a  spy,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
I  have  no  doubt  he  deserves  death,  fifty  times  over." 

"I  have  no  doubt  there  are  fifty  men  in  New  York 
who  deserve  it  more  than  he  does — men  of  power 
and  prominence." 

"I  would  keep  such  observations  to  myself,  Neil. 
Your  father  is  far  too  outspoken  and  he  is  paying 
for  it  now." 

"I  hope  my  father  will  never  be  less  outspoken." 

"Well,  as  I  say,  he  has  to  pay  for  his  opinions. 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     195 

He  has  two  hundred  pounds  to  pay,  but  then  he  had 
his  two  hundred  pounds  worth  of  fault-finding." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Curtis?" 

"Don't  you  remember  how  imprudently  he  spoke 
about  Mr.  Hulen's  imprisonment?" 

"He  said  nothing  but  the  truth.  Mr.  Hulens  is 
the  most  loyal  of  gentlemen,  but  because  he  was  not 
sufficiently  polite  to  a  town  major,  he  was  impris 
oned  with  felons  and  vagabonds  and  afterward  com 
pelled  to  publicly  apologize.  It  was  an  infamous 
wrong." 

"Precisely  what  the  Elder  said.  It  has  not  been 
forgotten." 

"There  were  the  two  De  Lanceys— 

"Yes,  to  be  sure !  And  why  did  he  trouble  him 
self  about  them?  There  are  enough  of  De  Lanceys 
to  look  after  De  Lanceys." 

"The  injustice  of  the  affair  was  every  man's  busi 
ness.  These  two  De  Lanceys  were  private  gentle 
men,  who,  because  they  had  some  words  with  a  Ger 
man  chasseur,  were  seized  in  their  homes  and  tried 
by  court-martial — though  they  had  no  connection 
whatever  with  the  army :  at  the  worst  it  was  a  sim 
ple  assault,  the  most  trifling  offense  the  civil  law 
notices,  yet  the  De  Lanceys  were  degraded  and  im 
prisoned  for  two  months,  and  then  compelled  to  beg 
this  German  mercenary's  pardon  before  all  the 
troops  at  Kingsbridge.  Remember  Mr.  Hicks, 
turned  out  of  his  hotel  by  General  Patterson  at  the 
request  of  that  unmentionable  creature  Loring — be 
cause  Loring  wanted  it  for  one  of  his  parasites.  Re 
member  poor  Amberman,  the  miller  at  Hempstead, 
who,  because  he  asked  Major  Stockton  for  payment 


196    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

for  the  flour  he  had  bought,  was  nearly  flogged  to 
death,  and  then  run  through  with  Major  Crew's 
sword,  and  kicked  out  of  the  way — dead.  Nothing 
was  done  to  Stockton;  I  met  him  on  the  street  an 
hour  ago,  still  an  officer  in  His  Majesty's  service.  I 
could  add  one  hundred  examples  to  these — but  what 
is  the  use  ?  And  why  are  we  lawyers  ?  There  is  no 
law.  The  will  of  any  military  officer  is  the  law." 

"Still  we  are  lawyers,  Neil;  and  special  counsel 
ors  to  three  of  the  commissaries." 

"I  shall  not  be  counselor  much  longer.  I  am  go 
ing  to  write  my  resignation  now." 

"Are  you  mad?  These  fees  are  about  all  the 
ready  money  we  make." 

"I  should  deserve  to  be  called  mad,  or  worse,  if  I 
continued  to  serve  a  government  which  had  just 
fined  me  for  not  being  careful  of  its  interests." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  throw  hundreds  a  year 
away  for  a  figment !" 

"Honor  is  something  more  than  a  figment.  But 
you  had  better  go  to  court  early  this  morning. 
When  you  come  back,  I  want  you  to  let  me  have  two 
hundred  pounds  until  I  can  sell  some  property." 

Curtis  burst  into  a  loud  laugh:  "I  could  not  let 
you  have  two  hundred  shillings,"  he  said.  "Good 
gracious,  Neil,  how  can  you  suppose  I  have  money 
to  spare?" 

"I  know  you  have  money,  but  if  you  are  averse 
to  lending  it,  that  is  a  different  thing.  I  thought 
you  might  have  some  memory  of  all  I  have  done  for 
you." 

"I  have.     Of  course  I  have.     You  have  put  thou- 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     197 

sands  of  pounds  in  my  way;  I  don't  deny  or  forget 
it,  but  I  have  a  family— 

"I  understand.  I  wish  you  would  hasten  about 
Bradley's  case.  His  father  will  be  expected  to  pay 
for  their  service." 

"I  suppose  his  case  is  settled.  I  am  sorry  he  has 
got  off — deuced  sorry!  a  saucy  youth  who  looked 
defiance  at  his  betters  all  the  time." 

"Were  they  his  betters?" 

"He  ought  to  be  hung !"  and  he  went  on  talking 
rapidly  about  Bradley's  deserts.  Neil  knew  the 
bluster  was  affected  in  order  to  prevent  recurrence  to 
the  subject  of  money,  and  with  a  heart  hot  and 
wounded  he  sat  down  to  write  his  resignation  of  the 
offices  which  were  his  principal  support.  Curtis  was 
disconcerted  and  uneasy,  and  his  last  words  on  leav 
ing  the  office  were  an  entreaty  to  Neil  to  do  "noth 
ing  foolish  and  hasty."  But  the  papers  were  writ 
ten,  and  then  he  took  himself  to  the  proper  depart 
ments. 

He  was  woefully  unhappy.  His  father's  and 
mother's  condition  made  his  strong  heart  tremble, 
and  though  no  one  could  have  supposed  from  his  ap 
pearance  that  he  had  a  single  care,  the  sudden  falling 
away  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances  wounded  him 
like  a  sword. 

As  he  walked  the  streets,  so  gravely  erect,  so 
haughtily  apart,  he  was  made  to  feel,  in  many  ways, 
that  he  had  lost  in  public  estimation.  No  one  took 
the  trouble  to  ask  him  a  favor  or  stopped  to  seek  his 
opinion,  or  told  him  bits  of  gossip  about  events  tran 
spiring.  He  was  classed  with  the  Bradleys.  The 


198    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

Misses  Robertson  passed  him  with  the  most  formal 
of  recognitions ;  Miss  Smith  did  not  notice  him  at 
all,  while  Joris  Van  Emerslie,  who  had  taken  his 
advice  the  previous  week  about  the  sale  of  his  busi 
ness,  crossed  the  street  to  avoid  him. 

Friends  were  not  far  behind  enemies.  As  he 
stood  a  moment  on  the  steps  of  the  barracks  com 
missary,  Judge  Lawson,  an  old  man  and  an  intimate 
acquaintance  of  the  Semples,  stopped  and  said, 
"Good-morning,  Neil.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here. 
I  heard  Cornelius  Bloch  had  asked  for  your  position 
and  was  likely  to  get  it." 

"I  did  not  resign  my  position,  Judge,  until  five 
minutes  ago.  The  commissioners  have  not  yet  re 
ceived  it." 

"Very  true,  but  every  one  knew  you  must  resign 
— the  servants  of  the  King  must  be  above  suspicion, 
eh?" 

"Suspicion,  sir!" 

"Now,  now,  Neil!  You  must  keep  your  temper 
for  younger  men ;  T  am  too  old  to  be  bluffed." 

Then  Neil  walked  silently  away,  and  the  old 
friend  of  the  family  watched  him  with  a  queer  ming 
ling  of  pity  and  satisfaction.  "Proud  creatures, 
them  Semples,  old  and  young,"  he  muttered;  "but 
good,  true  hearts  in  them,  I'm  half  sorry  for  Neil, 
he  was  always  ready  to  do  me  a  kindness ;  but  a  little 
pull-down  won't  hurt  him,  he  carries  his  head  too 
high  for  anything." 

But  high  as  Neil  carried  his  head,  his  heart  was 
in  the  depths.  It  seemed  to  him  that  all  the  fair, 
honorable  life  he  had  builded  was  falling  into  ruin. 
He  needed  now  both  help  and  sympathy,  and  his 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     199 

friends  looked  coldly  upon  him,  or  took  the  same  re 
proving  tone  as  the  self-righteous  comforters  of  the 
man  of  Uz.  Full  of  bitter  thoughts  he  was  walking 
down  Queen  Street,  when  he  heard  a  soft,  familiar 
voice,  almost  at  his  ear,  say,  "Mr.  Semple!  Hon 
ored  sir,  will  you  speak  to  me  for  a  few  minutes?" 
He  looked  up  quickly,  and  saw  that  he  was  close  to 
the  doorstep  of  Jacob  Cohen,  the  Jewish  dealer  in 
fine  furniture,  china,  jewelry,  etc. 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Cohen,"  he  answered,  as  he 
stepped  inside  the  gloomy  warehouse,  cro\vded  with 
articles  of  great  beauty  and  astonishing  value. 

"Will  you  sit  here,  if  you  please,  sir,"  and  Cohen 
drew  a  large  stool  forward  for  Neil;  "I  must 
not  detain  you,  your  time  is  worth  much  money, 
many  people  wish  to  buy  it,  but  it  is  land  I  would 
buy,  if  you  will  sell  it  to  me." 

"Land,  Mr.  Cohen !     Perhaps  a  house— 

"No,  it  is  the  land  you  own  next  to  our  syna 
gogue.  If  you  will  remember,  I  had  it  in  my  heart 
to  buy  this  plot  of  ground  six  years  ago.  I  thought 
then  we  could  build  a  larger  temple,  one  more 
worthy  for  our  worship ;  but  we  did  not  reach  agree 
ment  at  that  time  and  then  came  the  war.  I  offered 
you  then,  four  hundred  pounds  for  the  land ;  to-day 
I  make  you  the  same  offer  if  you  will  take  it. 

Neil's  emotion  was  almost  beyond  his  control. 
For  a  fewr  minutes  he  could  not  answer  the  proposi 
tion  ;  but  Cohen  had  the  patience  of  the  Jew,  and  he 
divined  the  young  man's  agitation  and  mental 
tremor.  Silent  and  motionless  he  waited  for  Neil's 
reply.  It  came  strained  and  hesitating,  as  if  speech 
was  an  effort. 


200    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"Mr.  Cohen — I  will  sell  you  the  land — yes,  in 
deed!  as  you  say,  for  four  hundred  pounds." 

"To-morrow?  Can  the  sale  be  completed  to 
morrow?" 

"I  will  prepare  the  papers  to-day." 

"I  am  well  pleased." 

"Mr.  Cohen,  this  is  a  great  surprise — a  good  sur 
prise — you  do  not  understand  how  good.  I  believe 
it  is  something  more  than  business  you  intend ;  it  is 
sympathy,  kindness,  friendship." 

"It  is  business,  but  it  is  kindness  also,  if  you  will 
accept  it.  Your  house  have  ever  done  me  good,  and 
not  evil.  I  and  mine  prayed  for  you — yes,  the  Jew 
knows  the  pang  of  injustice  that  must  be  borne  with 
out  protest  and  without  redress." 

"You  have  done  my  family  and  myself  an  un 
speakable  kindness.  I  were  the  worst  of  ingrates 
not  to  acknowledge  it,"  and  Neil  rose  and  offered 
his  hand.  And  when  Cohen  took  it,  and  held  it  for 
a  few  moments  within  his  own,  a  marvellous  change 
passed  over  the  old  man.  The  timid  attitude,  the 
almost  servile  respect,  vanished;  his  face  beamed 
with  a  lofty  expression,  his  eyes  met  Neil's  frankly; 
in  the  prosaic  surroundings  of  the  dark,  crowded 
shop  he  looked,  for  a  few  moments,  like  an  Eastern 
prince. 

As  they  stood  thus  together,  Neil  longing  to  say 
something  that  should  show  his  deep  gratitude 
and  friendship,  and  forgetting  that  Israel  in  Amer 
ica  at  that  day  still  preserved  much  of  their  Oriental 
seclusion  in  household  matters,  asked  after  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Belasco.  "I  have  not  seen  her  since 
her  marriage,"  he  said;  "but  I  can  never  forget  her. 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     201 

It  was  her  promptitude  in  the  duel  between  Captain 
Hyde  and  myself  that  saved  my  life." 

"She  has  a  good  heart;"  then  suddenly,  "come, 
come  into  my  home,  yes,  come  in  and  see  her." 

He  walked  toward  the  back  of  the  shop  and  Neil 
followed  him  into  a  large,  low  room,  where  there 
was  a  table  covered  with  a  white  cloth.  Another 
white  cloth,  folded  lengthwise,  shielded  the  bread 
and  the  china  laid  ready  for  the  noonday  meal. 
Cohen  stood  at  the  entrance  and  permitted  Neil  to 
pass  in.  As  he  did  so,  a  small,  dark  Jew  rose  and 
bringing  forward  a  chair,  said,  "Welcome  be  the 
guest." 

"This  is  Mr.  Belasco,"  said  Cohen,  and  then  Neil 
knew  the  woman  who  was  standing  behind  Mr.  Bel- 
asco's  chair.  It  was  the  still  beautiful  Miriam. 
The  happiness  of  perfect  love  lighted  the  dusky 
white  of  her  complexion  and  filled  her  glorious  eyes. 
A  brilliant  silk  kerchief  was  thrown  over  her  black 
hair,  and  she  wore  a  rich,  flowing  garment  of  many 
colors.  There  were  gems  in  her  ears  and  around 
her  neck,  and  her  slim,  brown  fingers  sparkled  with 
sapphires  and  diamonds.  Behind  her  was  the  white 
washed  wall  of  a  room  on  which  was  traced  some 
black  Hebrew  characters — wise  or  comforting  pas 
sages  from  the  Psalms  or  the  Prophets;  and  on 
shelves  of  ordinary  wood,  a  quantity  of  beautiful 
china,  some  silver  vessels,  and  a  copper  lamp  with 
seven  beaks,  brightly  polished.  Before  her  sat  Bel 
asco,  his  swarthy  face  revealing  both  power  and  in 
tellect,  purposely  veiled  beneath  a  manner  of  almost 
obsequious  deference.  But  his  voice,  like  Cohen's, 
was  full  of  those  vague  tones  of  softness  and  melody, 


202    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

of  which  Orientals  preserve  the  eternal  poetry,  with 
the  eternal  secret.  Outside,  but  within  sight  and 
hearing,  was  the  vibrant,  noisy,  military  life  of  New 
York — western  turmoil — hurry  of  business — exist 
ence  without  pause;  but  here,  in  this  grave,  unor- 
namented  room,  with  its  domestic  simplicity  and 
biblical  air,  was  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  East. 

Neil,  who  really  possessed  the  heart  and  the  im 
agination  of  a  poet,  felt  the  vibration  of  the  far-off 
life,  and  even  while  addressing  Mr.  Belasco,  had 
visions  of  palm-trees  and  of  deserts  and  of  long, 
long  journeys  with  the  caravans  of  camels,  from 
oasis  to  oasis.  He  was  standing  amid  the  children 
of  the  patriarchs.  These  souls  were  of  older  race 
than  himself;  they  had  the  noblest  of  kindreds,  a 
country  that  was  the  mother  of  nations. 

With  the  ideal  respect  born  of  such  thoughts 
he  offered  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Belasco.  Then  she 
called  her  children  and  proudly  exhibited  them  to 
Neil,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  slave  brought  in  a 
dish  of  lamb  stewed  with  rice  and  herbs,  some  dates, 
a  plate  of  little  cakes  strewed  with  caraway  seeds, 
and  some  strong  coffee.  A  roll  of  bread  was  at 
each  plate,  and  Cohen  broke  his  with  Neil.  Miriam 
did  not  eat  with  them ;  she  waited  silently  on  their 
wants,  her  face  beaming  with  pleasure  and  good 
will.  And  Neil  felt  as  if  he  had  suddenly  passed 
through  a  little  wrooden  door  into  the  life  of  the  far 
East. 

He  said  something  like  this,  and  Cohen  answered, 
"God  has  said  to  us,  as  to  His  servant  Abraham, 
Get  thee  out  of  thy  country,  and  from  thy  kindred. 
We  are  the  wayfarers  of  the  Eternal,  confessing 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     203 

still,  as  Moses  in  the  Law  taught  us — 'a  Syrian  ready 
to  perish  was  my  father.'  '      Deut.  26:5. 

It  was  an  unlooked-for  and  wonderful  hour,  and 
Neil  left  the  shop  of  Jacob  Cohen  a  very  different 
being  from  the  depressed,  anxious  man  who  had  en 
tered  it  an  hour  previously.  His  first  thought  was 
his  father  and  mother,  and  he  went  to  his  office, 
wrote  the  following  note,  and  sent  a  messenger  with 
it  to  them : 

MY  HONORED  AND  BELOVED  PARENTS  : 
I  have  sold  a  plot  of  land  in  Mill  Street  for  four 
hundred  pounds,  and  the  fines  will  be  paid  to-mor 
row.     We  shall  not  require  to  borrow  a  farthing 
from  any  one.     Be  at  ease.     I  will  come  to  you  as 
soon  as  I  have  written  the  necessary  transfer  papers. 
Your  affectionate  son, 

NEIL. 

Then  an  unconquerable  desire  to  see  Agnes,  or  at 
least  to  do  something  for  her,  took  entire  possession 
of  him;  and  he  laid  aside  his  business,  and  went  as 
rapidly  as  possible  to  the  Bradley  house.  But  Agnes 
would  not  see  him.  She  asked  to  be  left  alone,  and 
Neil  understood  her  need  of  solitude,  and  respected 
it.  In  Maiden  Lane  he  met  Lord  Medway,  who 
said,  "I  have  been  at  your  office  seeking  you,  Mr. 
Semple.  Young  Bradley  is  to  be  put  outside  the 
city  at  two  o'clock  to-day." 

"He  is  pardoned  then,  on  what  conditions?" 
"He  will  be  shot  on  sight  if  he  comes  within  five 
miles  of  New  York;  and  I  fear  he  will  not  have  a 
pleasant  escort  to  the  barricade." 


204    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"You  mean  that  he  will  be  drummed  out  by  the 
military  and  assaulted  by  the  mob?" 

"Yes,  the  court  said,  as  a  vagabond  and  spy  and 
common  rogue  against  His  Majesty's  government 
and  interests." 

"Oh !  I  suppose  the  court  is  right;  there  is  noth 
ing  to  be  done." 

"His  father  has  sent  a  number  of  men  with  some 
message  to  all  the  respectable  burghers  he  can  influ 
ence;  and  I  think  Bradley  can  influence  a  great 
many,  either  through  their  fear  of  him,  or  their  re 
spect  for  him." 

"What  does  he  propose  to  do?  He  can  not  pre 
vent  this  public  demonstration,  and  he  ought  not  to 
try  to  do  so.  His  son  has  got  off  miraculously  well. 
It  is  his  place  to  submit  and  be  grateful." 

"He  tells  me  the  last  man  drummed  out  of  town 
was  nearly  killed  by  the  missiles  thrown  at  him,  and 
did  lose  the  sight  of  one  eye.  He  proposes  to  pre 
vent  the  mob's  playfulness,  if  he  can." 

"But  how?" 

"He  has  asked  a  number  of  the  tradesmen  and 
merchants  in  the  city  to  send  their  apprentices  and 
clerks,  and  thus,  by  influence  and  example,  keep  the 
unruly  element  in  check.  No  one  can  prevent  their 
presence.  In  fact,  good  citizens  are  expected  to 
countenance  the  rogue's  punishment.  I  may  show 
myself  at  some  point  of  the  route,"  he  added,  with 
a  laugh;  "I  have  a  little  friend  who  may  ask  me 
about  it,"  and  he  looked  curiously  at  Neil,  wonder 
ing  if  Maria  had  told  him  how  the  miracle  had  been 
performed  which  saved  Harry's  life. 

But  Neil  made  no  sign,  and  Medway  continued: 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     205 

"I  wish  you  would  dine  with  me  this  evening,  Mr. 
Semple.  I  have  something  of  importance  to  tell 
you.  I  dine  at  five,  shall  we  say  at  The  King's 
Arms.  Afterward  I  will  walk  home  with  you,  if 
I  may." 

"I  will  join  you  at  five  o'clock.  What  time  does 
the  young  man  begin  his  march,  and  from  what 
point?" 

"From  Whitehall  Slip  to  Dock  Street,  Hanover 
Square,  Queen  Street,  Crown  Street,  William 
Street,  King  George  Street  to  the  Boston  Road,  and 
so  to  the  eastern  gate  of  the  barrier.  I  rather  think 
the  companions  of  the  journey  will  be  few  in  number 
ere  they  reach  the  barrier.  They  start  about  two 
o'clock  I  believe.  You  will  not  forget  dinner  at 
five?" 

Then  the  young  men  parted  and  Neil  went  to  his 
office  to  consider  his  movements.  Events  had  hap 
pened  with  a  celerity  that  made  him  nervous  and  un 
certain.  He  was  used  to  method  and  plenty  of  time. 
Hurry,  under  any  circumstances,  destroyed  his  bal 
ance.  Between  his  father  and  mother,  Agnes, 
Maria,  John  Bradley  and  his  son,  Jacob  Cohen  and 
Lord  Medway,  he  felt  as  if  in  a  whirlwind.  He 
wanted  an  hour  of  solitude  in  which  to  collect  him 
self.  But  his  office,  that  usually  quiet,  methodical 
place,  was  this  day  full  of  unrest.  His  partner  was 
fuming  at  Harry  Bradley's  release,  and  wondering 
"what  on  earth  was  the  use  of  the  law,  or  the  neces 
sity  for  lawyers  to  interpret  it?" 

"There  is  now  no  necessity  for  either  law  or  law 
yers,"  answered  Neil;  "we  may  pack  our  books  and 
lock  our  door." 


206    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"Neil,  I  have  been  thinking  how  I  could  manage 
to  get  two  hundred  for  you." 

"It  is  not  necessary.  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  to  you 
on  the  subject." 

"I  hope  you  have  reconsidered  the  question  of 
resignation." 

"I  sent  in  my  resignation  this  morning." 

"Of  course  the  commissioners  will  include  me 
with  you." 

"Not  necessarily." 

"Yes,  necessarily;  and  I  think  you  have  been  very 
selfish  and  unkind." 

"My  honor." 

"My  wife  and  children !  They  are  of  as  much  ac 
count  as  your  honor." 

Then  Neil  rose  and  went  out  again ;  there  seemed 
no  peace  anywhere,  he  had  scarcely  reached  the 
street  when  he  heard  in  the  distance  the  mocking 
strains  of  the  drums  and  the  fifes.  They  sounded 
so  intolerable  that  he  fled  to  his  home  to  escape  their 
cruel  clamor.  His  mother  saw  his  approach  and 
was  at  the  door  to  meet  him.  Her  face  looked 
strangely  grey  and  thin,  but  it  had  something  too  of 
its  old  spirit  and  cheerfulness  as  she  said : 

"Neil,  my  dear  lad,  your  letter  set  our  old  hearts 
singing.  How  did  you  manage  it?  Who  helped 
you?" 

"God  and  Jacob  Cohen  helped  me,"  he  answered. 
"The  Jew  has  bought  my  land  in  Mill  Street,  and  the 
strange  thing  is  that  he  bought  it  out  of  respect  and 
sympathy  for  my  father.  I  am  as  sure  of  that  as  I 
am  that  Jacob  Cohen  is  the  only  Christian  in  New 
York  who  remembered  us  for  past  kindness  or  cared 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     207 

for  us  in  present  trouble.  I  want  to  rest  an  hour, 
mother;  I  have  an  appointment  with  Lord  Medway 
at  five  o'clock,  and  I  feel  like  a  leaf  that  has  been 
blown  hither  and  thither  by  the  wind  for  two  days. 
You  might  tell  Maria  that  Agnes  Bradley 's  brother 
will  be  outside  of  New  York,  a  free  man,  in  an 
hour." 

"I  am  glad  he  is  out  o'  our  life,  anyway.  Much 
sorrow  and  loss  he  has  brought  us,  and  you  will  see 
that  Maria's  good  name  will  be  none  the  better  for 
being  mixed  up  with  the  affair." 

"That  is  Macpherson's  fault.  For  her  sake,  and 
for  your  sake,  he  might  have  held  his  tongue.  I 
will  not  forgive  him." 

"His  duty,  Neil ' 

"Nonsense!  He  could  have  given  the  informa 
tion  without  bringing  in  Maria's  name.  He  was 
mad  with  wounded  vanity,  it  was  a  miserable,  cow 
ardly  bit  of  revenge." 

"I  don't  think  he  is  a  coward/' 

"He  is;  any  man  is  a  coward  who  takes  his  spite 
out  on  a  woman,  and  you  have  been  so  kind,  so 
motherly  to  him.  He  is  a  disgrace  to  the  tartan: 
but  I  want  an  hour's  rest,  and  tell  father  to  be  per 
fectly  easy  about  the  money.  I  shall  have  it  in  the 
morning.  It  rests  on  Cohen's  word;  I  know  no 
better  human  security." 

"Are  you  not  hungry?" 

"I  had  dinner  with  the  Cohens,  a  simple,  excellent 
meal." 

"The  world  is  tapsalterie;  I  wonder  at  nothing 
that  happens.  Did  you  see  the  young  man?  I 
mean  Bradley's  son?" 


208     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"Not  I.  I  did  not  want  to  see  him.  I  heard  the 
drums  and  got  out  of  sight  and  hearing  as  quickly 
as  possible.  I  believe  his  father  has  managed  the 
affair  very  wisely;  I  should  not  wonder  if  the 
rogue's  march  turns  out  more  of  a  triumph  than  an 
ignominy." 

In  a  measure  Neil's  judgment  proved  to  be  cor 
rect.  Respectable  young  men,  charged  to  discounte 
nance  riotous  abuse,  began  to  join  the  procession  at 
its  outset,  and  this  element  was  continually  aug 
mented.  As  they  passed  Bradley's  shop,  Bradley 
himself  stepped  out  of  it  and  walking  at  the  head  of 
the  line,  took  his  place  at  Harry's  right  hand.  No 
one  interfered.  The  drummers  and  fifers  in  front 
did  not  see  him,  and  the  stupid  Waldeckers,  ignorant 
of  English  and  of  everything  but  the  routine  of  their 
regiment,  took  him  as  a  part  of  the  event.  He  was 
dressed  in  black  cloth,  with  a  white  lawn  band 
around  his  neck,  and  if  they  speculated  about  him  at 
all,  they  thought  he  was  a  clergyman,  and  concluded 
the  prisoner  was  to  be  hung  at  the  barrier. 

But  Harry  turned  to  his  father  a  face  full  of  love 
and  gratitude.  The  youth's  self-control  was  com 
plete,  for  his  disdain  of  the  whole  proceeding  was 
both  breastplate  and  weapon  to  him.  He  was  bare 
headed  and  with  the  wind  in  his  hair  and  the  sun 
light  in  his  eyes  he  went  swinging  onward  to  the 
song  of  victory  he  heard  in  his  own  heart.  By  the 
side  of  his  father's  massive  contour  and  stern  counte 
nance,  Harry  looked  like  some  young  Michael, 
bright-faced  and  fearless. 

Now  and  then  a  taunt  was  hurled  at  the  lad,  and 
occasionally  a  jibe  far  more  tangible,  but  of  neither 


THE  HELP  OF  JACOB  COHEN     209 

missile  did  he  show  the  least  consciousness.  The 
presence  of  his  father  touched  the  rudest  heart.  He 
removed  his  hat  when  he  saw  his  son's  uncovered 
head,  and  his  grey  hairs  evoked  far  more  pity  than 
contempt.  When  they  passed  through  the  fashion 
able  residence  streets,  the  sympathy  was  even  re 
markable;  windows  were  thrown  up,  handkerchiefs 
fluttered,  and  now  and  then  a  shrill  little  "bravo!" 
made  Harry  look  up  and  catch  the  influences  of  pity 
and  admiration  that  women,  young  and  lovely,  and 
women,  old  and  wayworn,  rained  down  on  him. 
As  Medway  predicted,  the  crowd  melted  away  long 
before  the  barrier  was  reached,  for  the  mood  of  mis 
chief  was  not  in  it.  The  fifes  screamed  and  the 
drums  beat,  but  could  not  summon  the  devilish  spirit 
of  mob  violence,  and  Harry  Bradley' s  tramp  to  the 
Rogue's  March  was  a  much  more  quiet  and  orderly 
affair  than  the  Police  Court  intended  it  to  be. 

At  the  barrier  the  gate  was  flung  open,  and,  in  the 
midst  of  a  fanfaronade  of  discordant  sounds  and 
scornful  shouts  Harry  was  hustled  outside.  But 
his  father  had  found  opportunity  to  give  him  gold 
and  to  tell  him  a  negro  was  waiting  with  a  swift 
horse  behind  the  gates;  and  just  at  the  last  moment, 
amid  the  scoffing  and  jeering  of  the  soldiers,  he 
put  his  arms  about  his  son's  neck  and  kissed  and 
blessed  him.  He  had  drunk  the  shameful  cup  to  the 
dregs  with  the  lad,  and  he  turned  to  the  little  gather 
ing  a  face  that  awed  them.  As  one  man  they  moved 
aside  to  let  him  pass,  and  for  a  few  moments 
watched  him,  as,  with  a  mighty  stride  he  took  the 
road  homeward.  For  he  looked  beyond  his  nature 
large  and  commanding,  and  he  walked  as  if  moved 


210    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

by  some  interior  force  that  was  beyond  his  control. 
Men  gazed  at  him  with  awe  and  pity,  but  no  one 
ventured  to  speak  to  him. 

As  he  approached  his  home  the  inner  momentum 
that  had  carried  him  without  let  or  hinderance  at  a 
marvelous  speed  seemed  to  fail ;  he  faltered,  looked 
round  wearily,  and  then  stumbled  forward,  as  if  he 
had  charged  his  spirit  for  the  last  mile  of  life. 
When  he  reached  his  gate  he  could  not  open  it,  and 
Agnes  ran  out  to  help  him;  speech  was  impossible, 
but  with  a  pitiful  glance  he  let  her  lead  him  into 
the  house.  Leaning  on  her,  he  stumbled  forward 
until  he  reached  the  sofa,  then,  with  a  great  cry  he 
fell  backward. 

Fortunately,  Neil  Semple  at  that  moment  entered 
the  house,  and  he  was  instantly  at  Bradley' s  side, 
rendering,  with  Agnes,  the  help  at  once  necessary, 
and  soothing  the  afflicted  man  with  words  of  such 
sympathy  and  affection  as  few  mortals  had  ever 
heard  pass  the  lips  of  Neil  Semple.  "Mr.  Bradley," 
he  entreated,  "do  not  fail  yourself  at  this  hour !  We 
are  all  so  sorry  for  you — all  ready  to  weep  with  you 
—think  of  Agnes — are  you  suffering? — Shall  I  go 
for  a  physician?  What  is  the  matter?  Speak  to 
me,  Mr.  Bradley." 

"Sir,"  he  answered,  stretching  out  his  trembling 
arms,  "sir,  I  can  neither  see  nor  hear." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE. 

EVERY  misfortune  has  its  horizon,  but  as  yet 
Maria  was  not  able  to  lift  up  her  eyes  and  see  any 
comfort  coming  from  afar.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
all  the  joy  and  glory  of  living  was  over.  It  was  not 
only  that  Harry  was  taken  out  of  her  schemes  of 
happiness  for  the  future;  the  present,  also,  was  de 
nuded  of  every  hope  and  clouded  by  very  real 
annoyances.  She  felt  bitterly  the  publicity  given 
to  her  name,  and  she  knew  that  this  publicity  would 
supply  those  who  disliked  her  with  continual  oppor 
tunities  for  her  humiliation. 

"I  shall  have  to  stop  at  home,"  she  thought;  "and 
grandmother  is  sick  and  grandfather  fretful,  and 
Neil's  whole  care  is  given  to  Agnes  Bradley.  I 
think  he  might  consider  me  a  little;  but  nobody 
does;  I  am  only  Maria.  Yet  my  life  is  ruined, 
quite  ruined ;"  and  the  unhappy  child  wept  over  her 
self  and  wondered  how  she  was  to  live  through  the 
long,  long  years  before  her. 

Very  frequently,  however,  this  tearful  mood  gave 
place  to  indignation  against  her  friends  in  general, 
and  Agnes  in  particular.  For  she  still  held  steadily 
to  the  opinion  that  all  the  trouble  had  arisen  from 
her  selfishness  and  inability  to  remember  any  one's 


212     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

desires  but  her  own.  And  so,  in  plaintive  or  pas 
sionate  wandering  from  one  wrong  to  another,  she 
passed  some  very  miserable  days.  Finally,  Neil  per 
suaded  her  to  go  and  see  Agnes.  He  said,  "Even 
the  walk  may  do  you  good ;  and  Agnes  is  certain  to 
have  some  comforting  words  to  say." 

Maria  doubted  both  assertions.  She  could  not 
see  what  good  it  could  do  her  to  go  from  one 
wretched  house  to  another  even  more  wretched, 
and  Neil's  assurances  that  John  Bradley  was  better 
and  able  to  go  to  his  shop  did  not  give  her  any  more 
eager  desire  to  try  the  suggested  change.  Yet  to 
please  Neil  she  went,  though  very  reluctantly;  and 
Madame  sympathized  with  this  reluctance.  She 
thought  it  was  Agnes  Bradley's  place  to  come  and 
make  some  acknowledgment  of  the  sorrow  and  loss 
her  family  had  brought  upon  the  Semples;  and  she 
recalled  the  innate  aversion  the  Elder  had  always 
felt  for  the  Bradley  family. 

"The  soul  kens  which  way  trouble  can  come,"  she 
said.  "But  what  is  the  good  o'  its  warnings?  No 
body  heeds  them." 

"I  never  heard  any  warning,  grandmother." 

"There's  nane  so  deaf  as  those  who  won't  hear; 
but  go  your  ways  to  your  friend  Agnes!  I'll  war 
rant  she  would  rather  you  would  bide  at  hame." 

The  morning  was  cold  and  damp  and  inex 
pressibly  depressing,  but  Maria  was  in  that  mood 
which  defies  anything  to  be  of  consequence.  She 
put  on  her  hat  and  cloak  and  walked  silently  by  her 
uncle's  side  until  they  came  to  the  Bradley  cottage. 
All  the  prettiness  of  its  summer  and  autumn  sur 
roundings  was  blighted  or  dead;  the  door  shut,  the 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      213 

window  covered,  the  whole  place  infected  by  the 
sorrow  which  had  visited  it.  Agnes  opened  the 
door.  She  was  wan  and  looked  physically  ill  and 
weary,  but  she  smiled  brightly  at  her  visitor,  and 
kissed  her  as  she  crossed  the  threshold. 

"My  father  has  been  very  ill,  Maria,  or  I  should 
have  been  to  see  you  before  this,"  she  said ;  "but  he 
has  gone  to  the  shop  this  morning.  I  fear  he  ought 
not." 

"My  grandfather  has  been  very  ill  and  is  still  un 
able  to  leave  his  room,"  replied  Maria.  "My  dear 
grandmother  also!  As  for  myself — but  that  is  of 
little  importance,  only  I  must  say  that  it  has  been  a 
dreadful  thing  to  happen  to  us,  a  cruel  thing !" 

"It  was  a  wrong  thing  to  begin  with.  That  is 
where  all  the  trouble  sprang  from.  I  see  it  now 
Maria." 

"Of  course!  You  ought  not  to  have  deceived 
your  father,  Agnes." 

"I  was  to  blame  in  that,  very  much  to  blame.  I 
have  nearly  broken  my  heart  over  the  sin  and  its 
consequences." 

"Consequences !  Yes,  for  they  fell  upon  the  inno 
cent — that  is  what  you  ought  to  be  sorry  for — my 
grandfather  and  grandmother,  my  Uncle  Neil,  and 
even  myself." 

"But  as  for  yourself,  Maria,  you  also  were  to 
blame.  If  you  would  have  been  content  with  seeing 
Harry  here " 

"Oh,  indeed !  You  did  not  permit  me  to  see  Harry 
here,  or  even  to  bid  him  good-bye  that  night.  If 
you  had " 

"It  would  have  made  no  difference.      Harry  as 


214    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

well  as  you  seemed  willing  to  run  all  risks  to  meet 
— elsewhere." 

"I  never  thought  of  meeting  Harry  elsewhere. 
I  have  told  you  this  fact  before." 

"If  you  had  not  done  so,  if  Harry  had  not 
known  you  would  do  so  again,  he  would  not  have 
asked  you." 

"This  is  the  last  time  I  will  condescend  to  tell  you, 
Agnes,  that  I  never  once  met  Harry  by  appoint 
ment;  much  less,  at  nine  o'clock  at  night.  Please 
remember  this !" 

"It  is,  then,  very  strange,  that  Harry  should  have 
asked  you  that  night." 

"Not  only  very  strange,  but  very  impertinent. 
Why  should  he  suppose  Maria  Semple  would  obey 
such  a  command  ?  For  it  was  a  command.  And  it 
was  a  further  impertinence  to  send  me  this  com 
mand  on  a  bit  of  common  paper,  wrapped  around 
a  stone  and  thrown  at  me  through  a  window.  It 
was  a  vulgar  thing  to  do,  also,  and  I  never  gave 
Harry  Bradley  the  smallest  right  to  order  me  to 
meet  him  anywhere." 

"Oh,  if  you  look  at  things  that  way!  But  why 
did  he  ask  you?  That  is  a  question  hard  to  answer." 

"Not  at  all.  He  was  jealous  of  Macpherson  and 
wished  to  show  off  his  familiarity  with  me  and  make 
Macpherson  jealous.  Under  this  distracting  pas 
sion  he  forgot,  or  he  did  not  care,  for  the  risk.  It 
was  your  selfishness  put  the  idea  into  his  head,  and 
it  was  his  selfishness  that  carried  it  out,  regardless 
of  the  consequences." 

"And  your  selfishness,  Maria,  what  of  it?" 

"I  was  not  selfish  at  all.      I  knew  nothing  about 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      215 

it.  If  I  had  received  the  note,  I  should  not  have 
answered  it  in  any  way." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?" 

"Absolutely  sure.  It  angered  me,  humiliated  me, 
wronged  me  beyond  words.  And  to  have  it  read  in 
the  Police  Court !  How  would  you  feel,  Agnes  ?  It 
has  ruined  my  life." 

"Poor  Harry!" 

"Oh,  but  poor  Maria!  All  this  misery  was 
brought  to  me  without  my  knowledge  and  without 
any  desert  on  my  part.  And  don't  you  suppose  I  love 
my  grandparents  and  Uncle  Neil?  Think  what  I 
have  suffered  when  I  saw  them  dragged  to  prison, 
tried,  fined  and  disgraced,  and  all  for  a  scribble  of 
presumptuous  words  that  Harry  Bradley  ought  to 
have  been  ashamed  to  write.  It  was  very  thought 
less;  it  was  very  cruel." 

"Harry  suffered  for  his  presumption;  and  as  for 
the  fine,  my  father  will  repay  it  to  your  grandfather. 
He  said  so  this  morning;  said  it  would  only  be  just; 
and  I  think  so,  too." 

"The  fine  is  the  least  part  of  the  wrong.  Who 
can  repay  grandfather  and  uncle  for  the  loss  of  their 
good  name  and  their  honorable  record?  Who  can 
give  uncle  his  business  back  again?  These  are 
wrongs  that  cannot  be  put  right  with  money.  You 
know  that,  Agnes." 

"Do  not  quarrel  with  me,  Maria.  I  am  not  able 
to  bear  your  reproaches.  Let  us  at  least  be  thankful 
that  Harry's  life  is  spared.  When  the  war  is  over 
you  may  yet  be  happy  together." 

Then  Maria  burst  into  passionate  weeping.  "You 
know  nothing  Agnes!  You  know  nothing!"  she 


2i6    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

cried.  "I  can  never  see  Harry  again!  Never, 
never!  Not  even  if  he  was  in  this  house,  now. 
How  do  you  suppose  he  was  saved?" 

"Father  has  a  great  deal  of  influence,  and  he  used 
it."  Her  calm,  sad  face,  with  its  settled  conviction 
of  her  father's  power,  irritated  Maria  almost  beyond 
endurance.  For  a  moment  she  thought  she  would 
tell  her  the  truth,  and  then  that  proud,  "not-caring," 
never  far  away  from  a  noble  nature  stayed  such  a 
petty  retaliation.  She  dried  her  eyes,  wrapped  her 
cloak  around  her,  and  said  she  "must  not  stop 
longer;  there  was  trouble  and  sorrow  at  home  and 
she  was  needed." 

Agnes  did  not  urge  her  to  remain,  yet  she  could 
not  bear  her  to  leave  in  a  mood  so  unfriendly,  and  so 
despairing.  "Forgive  me,  dear  Maria,"  she  whis 
pered.  "I  have  been  wrong  and  perhaps  unkind. 
I  fear  you  are  right  in  blaming  me.  Forgive  me! 
I  cannot  part  in  such  misunderstanding.  If  you 
knew  all " 

"Oh,  yes!    And  if  you  knew  all." 

"But  forgive  me!  God  knows  I  have  suffered 
for  my  fault." 

"And  I  also." 

"Put  your  arms  around  my  neck  and  kiss  me.  I 
cannot  let  you  go  feeling  so  unkindly  to  me.  Do 
you  hear,  little  one?  I  am  sorry,  indeed  I  am. 
Maria!  Maria!" 

Then  they  wept  a  little  in  each  other's  arms,  and 
Maria,  tear-  stained  and  heavy  hearted,  left  her 
friend.  Was  she  happier?  More  satisfied?  More 
hopeful,  for  the  interview?  No.  There  had  been 
no  real  confidence.  And  what  is  forgiveness  under 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      217 

any  circumstances?  Only  incomplete  understand 
ing;  a  resolution  to  be  satisfied  with  the  wrong  ac 
knowledged  and  the  pain  suffered,  and  to  let 
things  go. 

Certainly,  nothing  was  changed  by  the  apparent 
reconciliation;  for  as  Maria  sat  by  the  fire  that 
night  she  said  to  herself,  "It  is  her  fault.  If  she 
had  given  Harry  five  minutes,  only  five  minutes, 
that  night  he  never  would  have  written  that  shame 
ful  note.  It  came  of  her  delay  and  his  hurry.  I 
do  not  forgive  her,  and  I  will  not  forgive  her !  Be 
sides,  in  her  heart  I  know  she  blames  me;  I,  who 
am  perfectly  innocent !  She  has  ruined  my  life,  and 
she  looked  as  injured  as  if  it  was  I  who  had  ruined 
her  life.  I  was  not  to  blame  at  all,  and  I  will  not 
take  any  blame,  and  I  will  not  forgive  her !" 

Maria's  divination  in  the  matter  was  clearly  right. 
Agnes  did  blame  her.  She  was  sure  Harry  would 
not  have  written  the  note  he  did  write  unless  he  had 
received  previous  encouragement.  "There  must 
have  been  meetings  in  the  Semples's  garden  before," 
she  mused.  "Oh,  there  must  have  been,  or  else 
Harry's  note  was  inexcusable,  it  was  impertinence, 
it  was  vulgarity.  All  the  same,  she  need  not  have 
said  these  words  to  me." 

So  the  reconciliation  was  only  a  truce;  the  heart- 
wound  in  both  girls  was  unhealed;  and  if  it  were 
healed  would  not  the  scar  remain  forever? 

Three  or  four  days  after  this  unsatisfactory  meet 
ing  Neil  came  home  in  the  afternoon  just  as  the  fam 
ily  were  sitting  down  to  the  tea-table.  "It  is  cruelly 
cold,  mother,"  he  said.  "I  will  be  grateful  for  a 
cup.  I  am  shivering  at  my  very  heart."  Then  he 


ai8    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

gave  his  father  a  business-like  paper,  saying,  "I 
found  it  at  my  office  this  morning,  sir." 

"What  is  it  Neil?    What  is  it?    More  trouble?" 

"No,  sir.  It  is  a  deed  making  over  to  you  the 
property  in  which  Mr.  Bradley  has  his  shop  and 
workrooms.  He  says  in  a  letter  to  me  that  lie 
feels  this  deed  to  be  your  right  and  his  duty.5  You 
are  to  hold  the  property  as  security  until  he  pays 
you  three  hundred  pounds  with  interest;  and  if  you 
are  not  paid  within  three  years  you  are  to  sell  the 
property  and  satisfy  yourself." 

"You  can  give  Mr.  Bradley  his  deed  back  again, 
my  lad.  I  can  pay  my  own  fines ;  or  if  I  can't,  I  can 
go  to  prison.  I'll  not  be  indebted  to  him." 

"You  mistake,  sir.  This  is  a  moral  obligation, 
and  quite  as  binding  as  a  legal  one  to  Mr.  Bradley." 

"Take  the  paper,  Alexander,"  said  Madame,  "and 
be  thankfu'  to  save  so  much  out  o'  the  wreck  o' 
things.  We  havena  the  means  nor  the  right,  these 
days,  to  fling  awa'  siller  in  order  to  flatter  our  pride. 
In  my  opinion,  it  was  as  little  as  Bradley  coulcj.  do." 

"I  went  at  once  to  his  shop  to  see  him,"  continued 
Neil,  "but  he  was  not  there.  In  the  afternoon  I 
called  again,  and  found  he  had  been  absent  all  day. 
Fearing  he  was  sick,  I  stopped  at  his  house  on  my 
way  home.  A  strange  woman  opened  the  door. 
She  said  Mr.  Bradley  and  his  daughter  had  gone 
away." 

"Gone  away!"  cried  Maria.  "Where  have  they 
gone?  Agnes  said  nothing  to  me  about  going 
away." 

"The  woman,  Mrs.  Kurd,  she  called  herself,  told 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      219 

me  Agnes  did  not  know  she  was  to  leave  New  York 
until  fifteen  minutes  before  she  started." 

"When  will  they  return?"  asked  Madame. 

"God  knows,"  answered  Neil,  going  to  the  fire 
and  stooping  over  it.  "I  am  cold  and  sick,  mother," 
he  said.  "It  was  such  a  shock.  No  one  at  the  shop 
expected  such  an  event;  everything  was  as  busy  as 
possible  there,  but  the  house !  the  house  is  desolate." 

"When  did  they  go,  Neil?" 

"Last  night,  mother,  at  eleven  o'clock.  Mr.  Brad 
ley  came  in  about  twenty  minutes  before  eleven,  put 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hurd  in  possession,  and  told  Agnes 
to  pack  a  change  of  clothing  for  herself  in  a  leather 
saddlebaj  he  gave  her.  There  was  a  boat  waiting 
for  them,  and  they  went  away  in  the  darkness  with 
out  a  word.  0  Agnes!" 

"What  did  the  Kurds  say?" 

"They  know  nothing." 

"Did  Agnes  leave  no  letter?"  asked  Maria,  look 
ing  with  pitying  eyes  at  her  uncle. 

"How  could  she?  The  poor  child,  how  could 
she  ?  She  had  no  time.  Some  one  had  taken  away 
her  pens  and  pencils.  She  left  a  message  with  Mrs. 
Hurd.  That  was  all." 

That  was  all.  The  next  day  New  York  City 
knew  that  John  Bradley  had  left  his  business  and 
his  home  and  disappeared  as  completely  as  a  stone 
dropped  into  the  river.  No  one  had  suspected  his  in 
tention  ;  not  his  foreman,  nor  any  of  the  fifteen  men 
working  in  his  shop;  not  his  most  intimate  friends, 
not  even  his  daughter.  But  it  was  at  once  sur 
mised  that  he  had  gone  to  the  rebel  army.  People 
began  to  murmur  at  the  clemency  shown  to  his  son, 


220      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

and  to  comment  on  the  almost  offensive  sympathy 
of  the  father  for  him.  For  a  few  days  John  Brad 
ley  was  the  absorbing  topic  of  conversation;  then 
he  was  forgotten  by  every  one  but  Neil.  His  shop, 
indeed,  was  kept  open  by  the  foreman,  under  con 
trol  of  the  government,  but  the  name  of  Bradley 
was  removed  from  above  its  entrance  and  the  royal 
cipher  G.  R.  put  in  its  place.  And  in  a  few  weeks 
his  home  was  known  as  Kurd's  place,  and  had  lost 
all  its  little  characteristics.  Neil  passed  it  every  day 
with  a  heavy  heart.  There  was  no  sweet  face  at  the 
window  to  smile  him  a  greeting;  no  beautiful 
woman  to  stand  with  him  at  the  gate,  or,  hand  in 
his  hand,  lead  him  into  the  little  parlor  and  with 
ten  minutes'  conversation  make  the  whole  day  bright 
and  possible.  The  house  looked  forlorn;  fire  or 
candlelight  were  never  visible,  and  he  could  only 
think  of  Agnes  as  driven  away  in  the  dark  night  by 
Destiny  and  wandering,  he  knew  not  where. 

Maria,  too,  \vas  unhappy.  Her  last  visit  to 
Agnes  had  been  such  a  mockery  of  their  once  loving 
companionship.  Her  last  visit!  That  word  "last" 
took  hold  of  her,  reproached  her,  hurt  her,  made 
her  sorry  and  anxious.  She  felt  also  for  her  uncle, 
who  looked  old  and  gray  in  his  silent  sorrow.  Poor 
Neil !  he  had  suffered  so  many  losses  lately ;  loss  of 
money,  loss  of  business,  loss  of  friends,  and  to 
crown  all  these  bereavements,  the  loss  of  the  woman 
on  whom  he  had  fixed  the  love  and  light  and  hopes 
of  his  life.  No  wonder  he  was  so  mournful  and  so 
quiet ;  he,  who  had  just  begun  to  be  really  happy,  to 
smile  and  be  gracious  and  pleasant  to  every  one,  yes, 
and  even  to  sing !  Madame  could  not  help  noticing 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      221 

the  change.  "He  is  worse  than  ever  he  was  before," 
she  said  with  a  weary  pity.  "Dear  me!  what  lots 
of  sorrow  women  do  manage  to  make!" 

"This  remark  Maria  did  not  approve  of,  and  she 
answered  it  with  some  temper.  "All  this  sorrow 
came  from  a  man's  hand,  grandmother,"  she  said, 
"and  no  woman  is  to  blame." 

"Not  even  yoursel',  Maria?" 

"I,  least  of  all.  Do  you  think  that  I  would  have 
met  any  man  by  the  river  side  at  nine  o'clock  at 
night?" 

"I'll  confess  I  have  had  my  doubts." 

"Then  you  ought  to  say,  'Maria,  I  am  sorry  I 
have  had  one  doubt  of  you.'  When  you  were  Janet 
Gordon,  would  you  have  done  a  thing  like  that?" 

"Not  a  man  in  Scotland  could  have  trysted  me  at 
an  hour  when  all  my  folk  were  in  their  rooms  and 
maybe  sleeping." 

"Not  a  man  in  America  could  make  such  a  tryst 
with  me.  I  am  your  granddaughter." 

"But  that  letter,  Maria." 

"It  was  a  shame!  A  wrong  I  cannot  forgive.  I 
called  it  an  impertinence  to  Agnes,  and  I  feel  it  so. 
He  had  no  reason  to  suppose  I  would  answer  such  a 
request,  such  an  order,  I  may  say.  I  am  telling  you 
the  truth,  grandmother." 

"I  believe  you,  Maria;  but  the  pity  of  it  is  that 
you  canna  advertise  that  fact." 

"I  know  that.  I  know  that  everyone  will  doubt 
me  or  shun  me.  I  shall  be  made  to  suffer,  of  course. 
Well,  I  can  suffer  and  smile  as  well  as  any  woman, 
— we  all  have  that  experience  at  some  time  or 
other." 


222    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

"Men  have  it,  too.    Look  at  your  uncle/' 

"Men  don't  smile  when  they  suffer;  they  don't 
even  try  to.  Uncle  suffers,  any  one  can  see  that, 
but  he  does  not  dress  up  in  velvet  and  silk,  and 
laugh,  and  dance,  and  talk  nonsense  merrily  over 
the  grave  where  all  his  hopes  are  buried.  No,  in 
deed  !  He  looks  as  if  he  had  lost  the  world.  And 
he  shuts  himself  in  his  room  and  swears  at  some 
thing  or  somebody;  he  does  not  cry  like  a  woman 
and  get  a  headache,  as  well  as  a  heartache;  he 
swears  at  his  trouble  and  at  everything  connected 
with  it.  That  is  the  way  with  men,  grandmother, 
you  know  it  is.  I  have  heard  both  my  grandfather 
and  my  uncle  comforting  themselves  after  this  fash 
ion.  Grandfather,  I  thought,  even  seemed  to 
enjoy  it." 

Madame  smiled  and  then  admitted  "men  had 
their  ain  ways,  and  so  couldna  be  judged  by 
woman's  ways."  Moreover,  she  told  Maria  in 
regard  to  Agnes  that  a  friendship  which  had  begun 
to  decay  was  best  cut  off  at  once.  And  Maria,  in 
spite  of  certain  regrets,  felt  this  to  be  a  truth. 
Things  were  not  the  same  between  Agnes  and  her 
self  ;  it  was,  then,  more  comfortable  that  they  should 
not  be  at  all. 

Only,  as  day  after  day  went  by  and  no  one  took 
the  place  of  Agnes  or  showed  the  slightest  desire  to 
do  so,  her  life  became  very  monotonous.  This  was 
specially  remarkable,  because  New  York  was  at  a 
feverish  point  of  excitement.  General  Clinton  was 
hurrying  his  preparations  for  the  reduction  of  the 
South.  Any  hour  the  troops  might  get  marching 
orders,  and  every  entertainment  had  the  gaiety  and 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      223 

the  melancholy  of  a  farewell  feast.  All  day  long 
troops  were  moving  hither  and  thither,  and  order 
lies  galloping  in  every  direction.  There  was  a  con 
stant  rumble  of  army  wagons  in  motion;  trumpets 
were  calling  men  together,  drums  beating  them  to 
their  stations;  and  through  all  the  blare  and  move 
ment  of  a  great  military  town  in  motion  there  was 
the  tinkling  of  sleigh-bells  and  the  glancing  of 
splendidly  caparisoned  sleighs,  full  of  women  bril 
liantly  dressed. 

Now,  although  the  Semple  house  was  beyond  the 
actual  throng  and  tumult  of  these  things,  Maria 
heard  the  confused  murmur  of  their  activity;  and 
Neil  told  her  bare  facts,  which  she  easily  clothed 
with  all  the  accessories  of  their  existence  and  move 
ment.  But  although  there  were  dinner  parties  and 
sleighing  parties,  nightly  dances,  and  the  promise 
of  a  fine  theatrical  season,  with  the  officers  of  the 
army  as  actors,  no  one  remembered  her.  She  was 
shocked  when  she  realized  that  she  had  been  cut  off 
from  all  social  recognition.  Setting  aside  the  fact 
that  Harry  Bradley  was  a  rebel,  she  had  done  noth 
ing  to  deserve  such  ostracism;  but,  though  consci 
ous  of  her  innocence,  she  did  not  find  this  inner 
approval  as  satisfying  a  compensation  for  out 
ward  respect  and  pleasant  company  as  it  is  supposed 
to  be. 

As  the  days  went  on,  she  began  to  wonder  at  Lord 
Medway's  absence.  At  least,  if  she  was  to  be  his 
wife  he  ought  to  show  her  some  care  and  atten 
tion.  She  remembered  that  in  their  last  important 
interview  she  had  told  him  not  to  trouble  her;  but 
he  ought  to  have  understood  that  a  woman's  words, 


224   A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

in  such  trying  circumstances,  meant  much  less  or 
much  more  than  their  face  value. 

Household  anxieties  of  all  kinds  were  added  to 
these  personal  ones.  Madame  Semple  was  sick  and 
full  of  domestic  cares.  Never  had  there  been  known 
in  New  York  such  bitter  frost,  such  paralyzing  cold. 
Snow  lay  four  to  six  feet  deep ;  loaded  teams  or  gal 
loping  cavalry  crossed  the  river  safely  on  its  solid  ice. 
Neil  had  made  arrangements  for  wood  in  the  sum 
mer  months,  but  only  part  of  it  had  been  delivered ; 
the  rest,  though  felled,  could  not  be  extricated  from 
the  frozen  snowdrifts.  The  sale  of  the  Mill  Street 
property  had  left  them  a  margin  of  ready  money, 
but  provisions  had  risen  to  fabulous  prices  and  were 
not  always  procurable  at  any  price.  New  York 
was  experiencing,  this  cruel  winter,  all  the  calami 
ties  of  a  great  city  beleaguered  both  by  its  enemies 
and  the  elements. 

Yet  the  incessant  social  gaiety  never  ceased. 
Thousands  were  preparing  for  the  battlefield ;  thou 
sands  were  dying  in  a  virulent  smallpox  epidemic; 
thousands  were  half-frozen  and  half- fed;  the  pris 
ons  were  crowded  hells  of  unspeakable  agonies;  yet 
the  officers  in  command  of  the  city,  and  the  citizens 
in  office,  the  rich,  the  young  and  the  beautiful,  made 
themselves  merry  in  the  midst  of  all  this  death  and 
famine,  and  found  very  good  recreation  in  driving 
their  jingling  sleighs  over  the  solid  waters  of  the 
river  and  the  bay. 

In  these  bad  times  Neil  was  the  stay  and  comfort 
of  the  Semple  household.  He  catered  for  their 
necessities  cheerfully,  but  his  heart  was  heavy  \vith 
anxious  fear;  and  when  he  saw  those  he  loved  de- 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      225 

prived  of  any  comfort,  he  reproached  himself  for 
the  pride  which  had  made  him  resign  offices  so  neces 
sary  for  their  welfare.  This  pinch  of  poverty, 
which  he  must  conceal,  made  his  whole  being  shrink 
with  suffering  he  never  named  to  any  one.  And 
besides,  there  was  always  that  desolate  house  to  pass 
and  repass.  How  was  it  that  its  shut  door  affected 
him  so  painfully?  He  could  only  feel  this  ques 
tion;  he  could  not  answer  it.  But,  though  he  was 
not  conscious  of  the  fact,  never  had  Neil  Semple  in 
all  his  life  been  at  once  so  great  and  so  wretched : 
great  because  he  was  able  to  put  his  own  misery 
under  the  feet  of  those  he  loved ;  to  forget  it  in  noble 
smiles  that  might  cheer  them  and  in  hopeful  words, 
often  invented  for  their  comfort. 

One  day  as  he  was  walking  down  Broadway  he 
saw  a  sleigh  coming  toward  him.  It  was  drawn  by 
four  black  horses  blanketed  in  scarlet,  glittering 
with  silver  harness  and  tossing  their  plumed  heads 
to  the  music  of  a  thousand  bells.  As  it  drew  nearer 
a  faint  smile  came  to  his  lips.  He  saw  the  fantas 
tically-dressed  driver  and  footman,  and  the  brilliant 
mass  of  color  surrounded  by  minever  furs,  and  he 
knew  it  was  Madame  Jacobus,  out  to  defy  any  other 
sleigh  to  approach  her. 

He  expected  only  a  swift,  bright  smile  in  pass 
ing,  but  she  stopped,  called  him  imperatively,  and 
then  insisted  that  he  should  take  a  seat  beside  her. 
"I  have  caught  you  at  last,"  she  said  with  a  laugh. 
"It  is  high  time.  I  asked  you  to  come  soon  and  see 
ine,  and  you  said  you  would.  You  have  broken  your 
word,  sir.  But  nothing  is  binding  where  a  woman 
is  concerned;  we  have  to  live  on  broken  scraps  of 


226    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

all  kinds,  or  perish.  You  are  going  to  dine  with 
me.  I  shall  take  it  very  ill  if  you  refuse;"  then, 
more  soberly,  "I  have  some  important  things  to  say 
to  you." 

"It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  dine  with  you," 
answered  Neil. 

"First,  however,  we  will  gallop  a  mile  or  two, 
just  to  show  ourselves  and  get  an  appetite;"  and 
the  grave  smile  of  pleasurable  assent  which  accepted 
this  proposition  delighted  her.  In  and  out  of  the 
city  ways  they  flew,  until  they  reached  the  Bowery 
road;  there  they  met  the  sleighs  of  generals  and 
governors,  dandy  officers  and  wealthy  commission 
ers,  and  passed  them  all.  And  Neil  shared  the  thrill 
of  her  triumph  and  the  physical  delight  of  a  pace 
no  one  could  approach.  Something  like  his  old 
expression  of  satisfied  consideration  came  into  his 
face,  and  he  was  alive  from  head  to  feet  when  he 
reached  Madame's  fine  house  in  lower  Broadway, — 
a  handsome,  luxurious  house,  filled  with  treasures 
from  every  part  of  the  world ;  no  shadow  of  limita 
tion  in  anything  within  it.  The  lunch,  elaborately 
laid  for  Madame,  was  instantly  extended  for  the 
guest,  and  Neil  marvelled  at  the  dainty  liberality 
of  all  its  arrangements.  It  was,  indeed,  well  known 
that  the  Jacobus  wealth  was  enormous,  but  here  was 
a  room  warmed  as  if  wood  was  of  no  great  value; 
broiled  birds,  the  finest  of  wheat  bread,  the  oldest 
and  best  of  wines. 

"You  see,  I  take  good  care  of  myself,  Neil,"  said 
Madame.  "I  don't  wish  to  die  till  the  war  is  over. 
I  am  resolved  to  see  Troy  taken." 

"You  mean  New  York." 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      227 

"I  mean  New  York,  of  course." 

"Do  you  really  think  the  rebels  will  take  New 
York?" 

"The  Greeks  got  into  Troy  by  trying.  I  think 
others  can  do  the  same." 

This  was  the  only  allusion  made  to  public  events 
during  the  meal;  but  when  it  was  over  and  the 
servants  had  disappeared  she  set  her  chair  before  the 
roaring  fire,  spread  out  her  splendid  scarlet  skirt, 
and,  holding  a  gemmed  fan  between  her  face  and 
the  blaze,  said : 

"Now  we  will  talk.  You  must  tell  me  every 
thing,  Neil,  without  holdbacks.  You  are  a  lawyer 
and  know  that  everything  must  be  told  or  nothing. 
Do  you  feel  that  you  can  trust  me?" 

Then  Neil  looked  into  the  dark,  speaking  face, 
bending  slightly  toward  him.  Kindness  lighted 
its  eyes  and  parted  its  lips,  but,  above  all,  it  was 
a  countenance  whose  truth  was  beyond  question. 
"Madame,"  he  answered,  "I  believe  you  are  my 
friend." 

"In  plain  truth,  I  am  your  friend.  I  am  also  your 
mother's  friend.  She  is  the  best  of  women.  I  love 
her,  and  there's  an  end  of  it.  When  I  came  to  New 
York  first  I  was  a  stranger  and  people  looked  curi- 
uosly,  even  doubtfully,  at  me.  Janet  Semple  stood 
by  me  like  a  mother  just  as  long  as  I  needed  her 
care.  Do  I  forget?  That  is  far  from  Angelica 
Jacobus.  I  never  forget  a  kindness.  Now,  Neil,  I 
have  known  you  more  than  twenty  years.  What 
can  I  do  for  you?" 

"O  Madame,  what  can  you  not  do?  Your 
sympathy  has  put  new  life  into  me.  I  feel  as  if, 


228    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

perhaps,  even  yet  there  may  be  happy  days  in 
store." 

"Plenty  of  them.  I  hear  you  paid  the  fines  imme 
diately.  Did  they  pinch  you  much?" 

"No.  Jacob  Cohen  bought  a  piece  of  land  from 
me.  I  do  believe  he  bought  it  out  of  pure  kindness." 

"Pure  kindness  and  good  business.  He  knows 
how  to  mingle  things.  But  that  Jew  has  a  great 
soul.  Jacobus  has  said  so  often,  and  no  one  can 
deceive  Jacobus.  But  what  are  these  stories  I  hear 
about  your  lovely  niece?  Is  there  any  truth  in 
them?" 

"None,  I'll  warrant,"  answered  Neil  warmly. 
"But  I  will  tell  you  the  exact  truth,  and  then  you 
may  judge  if  little  Maria  deserves  to  be  treated  as 
people  are  now  treating  her." 

Then  Neil  succinctly,  and  with  clearness  and  feel 
ing,  told  the  story  of  Maria's  entanglement  with 
Harry  Bradley,  laying  particular  stress  on  the  fact 
that  she  never  had  met  him  clandestinely,  and  that 
his  note  had  been  a  great  offense  and  astonishment 
to  her.  "I  was  present,"  he  said,  "when  my  father 
told  her  of  the  note,  and  of  its  being  read  in  the 
Police  Court,  and  I  shall  never  forget  her  face.  It 
is  an  easy  thing  to  say  that  a  person  was  shocked, 
but  Maria's  very  soul  was  so  dismayed  and  shocked 
that  I  seemed  to  see  it  fly  from  her  face.  She  would 
have  fallen  had  I  not  caught  her.  Why  was  that 
note  written?  I  cannot  understand  it." 

"It  was  never  intended  for  Maria.  It  was  written 
to  wound  the  vanity  and  fire  the  jealousy  of  that 
Scot.  As  soon  as  Maria  left  the  room  the  oppor 
tunity  was  seized.  Can  you  not  see  that?  And 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      229 

Harry  Bradley  never  dreamed  that  the  kilted  fool 
would  turn  an  apparent  love-tryst  into  a  political 
event.  He  wished  to  make  trouble  between  Mac- 
pherson  and  Maria,  but  he  had  no  intention  of 
making  the  trouble  he  did  make.  He  also  was  jeal 
ous,  and  when  two  jealous  men  are  playing  with 
fire  the  consequences  are  sure  to  be  calamitous.  But 
Macpherson  is  sorry  enough  now  for  his  zeal  in  His 
Majesty's  affairs.  He  is  thoroughly  despised  by 
both  men  and  women  of  the  first  class.  I,  myself, 
have  made  a  few  drawing-rooms  places  of  extreme 
humiliation  to  him." 

"Still,  others  think  the  man  simply  did  his  duty. 
A  Scotsman  has  very  strong  ideas  about  military 
honor  and  duty." 

"Fiddlesticks !  Honor  and  duty !  Nothing  of  the 
kind.  It  was  a  dirty  deed,  and  he  is  a  dirty  fellow 
to  have  done  it.  There  was  some  decent  way  out 
of  the  dilemma  without  going  through  the  Police 
Court  to  find  it.  Grant  me  patience  with  such 
bouncing,  swaggering,  selfish  patriotism !  A  penny's 
worth  of  common-sense  and  good  feeling  would  have 
been  better;  but  it  was  his  humor  to  be  revengeful 
and  ill-natured,  and  he  is,  of  course,  swayed  by  his 
inclinations.  Let  us  forget  the  creature." 

"With  all  my  soul." 

"The  stories  are  various  about  Maria  going  to 
General  Clinton  and  begging  her  lover's  life  with 
such  distraction  that  he  could  not  refuse  it  to  her. 
Which  story  is  the  true  one?" 

"They  are  all  lies,  I  assure  you,  Madame.  It  was 
Lord  Medway  who  begged  Harry  Bradley 's  life." 

"But  why?" 


230   A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

Neil  paused  a  minute,  and  then  answered  softly, 
"For  Maria's  sake." 

"Oh,  I  begin  to  understand." 

"She  has  promised  to  marry  him  when  she  is  of 
age — then,  or  before." 

"I  am  very  glad.  Medway  is  a  man  full  of  queer 
kinds  of  goodness.  When  the  Robinsons  and  Blun- 
dells,  when  Joan  Attwood  and  Kitty  Errol  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  beauties,  hear  the  news,  may  I  be 
there  to  see?  Is  it  talkable  yet?" 

"No,  not  yet.  Maria  has  told  no  one  but  me, 
and  I  have  told  no  one  but  you.  Medway  is  to  see 
my  father  and  mother;  after  that — perhaps.  He 
has  not  called  since  the  arrangement ;  he  told  me  'he 
was  doing  the  best  thing  under  the  circumstances.' ' 

"Of  course  he  is.  Medway  understands  women. 
He  knows  that  he  is  making  more  progress  absent 
than  he  would  present.  Come,  now,  things  are  not 
so  bad,  socially.  Mrs.  Gordon  and  Angelica  Jaco 
bus  will  look  after  Maria;  and,  though  women  can 
always  be  abominable  enough  to  their  own  sex,  I 
think  Maria  will  soon  be  beyond  their  shafts.  Now, 
it  is  business  I  must  speak  of.  Patrick  Huges,  my 
agent,  is  robbing  me  without  rhyme  or  reason.  I 
had  just  sent  him  packing  \vhen  I  met  you.  The 
position  is  vacant.  Will  you  manage  my  affairs  for 
me?  The  salary  is  two  hundred  pounds  a  year." 

"Madame,  the  offer  is  a  great  piece  of  good  for 
tune.  From  this  hour,  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  do  your 
business  as  if  it  were  my  own." 

"Thank  you,  Neil.  In  plain  truth,  it  will  be  a 
great  kindness  to  me.  W^e  will  go  over  the  rascal's 
accounts  to-morrow,  and  he  will  cross  the  river  to 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      231 

night  if  he  hears  that  Neil  Semple  is  to  prosecute  the 
examination." 

Then  Neil  rose  to  leave.  Madame's  sympathy 
and  help  had  made  a  new  man  of  him;  he  felt  able 
to  meet  and  master  his  fate,  whatever  it  might  be. 
At  the  last  moment  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 
"Neil,"  she  asked,  "Has  not  this  great  outrage 
opened  your  eyes  a  little.  Do  you  still  believe  in 
the  justice  or  clemency  of  the  King?" 

"It  was  not  the  King." 

"It  was  the  King's  representatives.  If  such  in 
dignity  is  possible  when  we  are  still  fighting,  what 
kind  of  justice  should  we  get  if  we  were  conquered?" 

"I  know,  I  know.  But  there  is  my  father.  It 
would  break  his  heart  if  I  deserted  the  royal  party 
now.  They  do  not  know  in  England " 

"Then  they  ought  to  know;  but  for  many  years 
I  have  been  saying,  'England  was  mad';  and  she 
grows  no  wiser." 

"Englishmen  move  so  slowly." 

"Of  course.  All  the  able  Englishmen  are  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  Lord!  how  many  from  the 
other  side  could  be  changed  for  the  one  Great  One 
on  this  side.  What  do  you  think?  It  was  my  silk, 
lace,  ribbons  and  fallals  Harry  Bradley  was  taking 
across  the  river.  The  little  vanities  were  for  my 
old  friend  Martha.  I  am  sorry  she  missed  them." 

Neil  looked  at  her  with  an  admiring  smile.  "How 
do  you  manage?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  arranged  my  politics  long  since,  and  quite 
to  my  satisfaction.  So  has  Jacobus.  He  left  New 
York  flying  the  English  flag,  but  the  ocean  has  a 
wonderful  influence  on  him ;  his  political  ideas  grow 


232    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

large  and  free  there;  he  becomes — a  different  man. 
Society  has  the  same  effect  on  me.  When  I  see 
American  women  put  below  that  vulgar  Mrs. 
Reidesel " 

"Oh,  no,  Madame!" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.  In  the  fashionable  world  we  are 
all  naught  unless  Mrs.  General  Reidesel  figures  be 
fore  us;  then,  perhaps,  we  may  acquire  a  kind  of 
value.  See  how  she  is  queening  it  in  General  Try- 
ron's  fine  mansion.  And  then,  this  foreign  merce 
nary,  Knyphausen,  put  over  American  officers  and 
American  citizens!  It  is  monstrous!  Not  to  be 
endured!  I  only  bear  it  by  casting  my  heart  and 
eyes  to  the  Jersey  Highlands.  There  our  natural 
ruler  waits  and  watches;  here,  we  wait  and  watch, 
and  some  hour,  it  must  be,  our  hopes  shall  touch 
God's  purposes  for  us.  For  that  hour  we  secretly 
pray.  It  is  not  far  off."  And  Neil  understood,  as 
he  met  her  shining  eyes  and  radiant  smile,  that  there 
are  times  when  faith  may  indeed  have  all  the  dig 
nity  of  works. 

Then  the  young  man,  inexpressibly  cheered  and 
strengthened,  went  rapidly  home;  and  when  Mad 
ame  heard  her  son's  steps  on  the  garden  walk 
she  knew  that  something  pleasant  had  happened  to 
him.  And  it  is  so  often  that  fortune,  as  well  as  mis 
fortune,  goes  where  there  is  more  of  it  that  Neil  was 
hardly  surprised  to  see  an  extraordinarily  cheerful 
group  around  an  unusually  cheerful  fireside  when 
lie  opened  the  parlor  door.  The  Elder,  smiling  and 
serene,  sat  in  his  arm-chair,  with  his  finger-tips 
placidly  touching  each  other.  Madame's  voice  had 
something  of  its  old  confident  ring  in  it,  and  Maria, 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      233 

with  heightened  color  and  visible  excitement,  sat 
between  her  grandparents,  an  unmistakable  air  of 
triumph  on  her  face. 

"Come  to  the  fire,  Neil,"  said  his  mother,  making 
a  place  for  his  chair.  "Come  and  warm  yoursel'; 
and  we'll  hae  a  cup  o'  tea  in  ten  or  fifteen  minutes." 

"How  cheerful  the  blazing  logs  are,"  he  answered. 
"Is  it  some  festival?  You  are  as  delightfully  ex 
travagant  as  Madame  Jacobus.  Oh,  if  the  old  days 
were  back  again,  mother!" 

"They  will  come,  Neil.  But  wha  or  what  will 
bring  us  back  the  good  days  we  hae  lost  forever  out 
o'  our  little  lives  while  we  tholed  this  weary  war? 
However,  there  is  good  news,  or  at  least  your  father 
thinks  so.  Maria  has  had  an  offer  o'  marriage, 
and  her  not  long  turned  eighteen  years  auld,  and 
from  an  English  lord,  and  your  father  has  made 
a  bonfire  o'er  the  matter,  and  I've  nae  doubt  he 
would  have  likit  to  illuminate  the  house  as  weel." 

The  Elder  smiled  tolerantly.  "Janet,"  he  an 
swered,  "a  handsome  young  man,  without  mair  than 
his  share  o'  faults  and  forty  thousand  pounds  a  year, 
is  what  I  call  a  godsend  to  any  girl.  And  I'm  glad 
it  has  come  to  our  little  Maria.  I  like  the  lad.  I 
like  him  weel.  He  spoke  out  like  a  man.  He  told 
me  o'  his  castle  and  estate  in  Lancashire,  and  o'  the 
great  coal  mines  on  it;  the  lands  he  owned  in  Cum 
berland  and  Kent,  his  town  house  in  Belgrave 
Square,  and  forbye  showed  me  his  last  year's  rental, 
and  stated  in  so  many  words  what  settlement  he 
would  make  on  Maria.  And  I'm  proud  and  pleased 
wi'  my  new  English  grandson  that  is  to  be.  I  shall 
hold  my  head  higher  than  ever  before;  and  as  for 


234    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

Matthews  and  Peter  DuBois,  they  and  their  dirty 
Police  Court  may  go  to  -  — ,  where  they  ought  to 
have  been  years  syne,  but  for  God  Almighty's  pa 
tience;  and  I'll  say  nae  worse  o'  them  than  that. 
It's  a  great  day  for  the  Semples,  Neil,  and  I  am  won 
derfully  happy  o'er  it." 

"It's  a  great  day  for  the  Medways,"  answered 
Madame.  "I  could  see  fine  how  pleased  he  was  at 
the  Gordon  connection,  for  when  I  told  him  Colonel 
William  Gordon,  son  o'  the  Earl  o'  Aberdeen— 
him  wha  raised  the  Gordon  Highlanders  a  matter  o' 
three  years  syne — was  my  ain  first  cousin,  he  rose 
and  kissed  my  hand  and  said  he  was  proud  to  call 
Colonel  Gordon  his  friend.  And  he  knew  a'  about 
the  Gordons  and  the  warlike  Huntleys,  and  could 
even  tell  me  that  the  fighting  force  o'  the  clan  was 
a  thousand  claymores;  a  most  intelligent  young 
man!  And  though  I  dinna  like  the  thought  o'  an 
Englishman  among  the  Gordons,  there's  a  differ 
even  in  Englishmen;  some  are  less  almighty  and 
mair  sensible  than  others. 

"He  spoke  very  highly  o'  the  Americans,"  an 
swered  the  Elder.  "He  said  'we  were  all  o'  one 
race,  the  children  o'  the  same  grand  old  mother.' ' 

"The  Americans  are  obligated  for  his  recogni 
tion,"  replied  Madame  a  trifle  scornfully.  "To  be 
sure,  it's  a  big  feather  in  our  caps  when  Lord  Med- 
way  calls  cousins  with  us." 

"What  does  Maria  say?"  asked  Neil.  And  Maria 
raised  her  eyes  to  his  with  a  look  in  them  of  which 
he  only  had  the  key.  So  to  spare  her  talking  on  the 
subject,  he  continued:  "I  also  have  had  a  piece  of 
good  fortune  to-day.  I  met  Madame  Jacobus,  went 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      235 

home  with  her  to  dinner,  and  she  has  offered  me  the 
position  of  her  business  agent,  with  a  salary  of  two 
hundred  pounds  a  year." 

"It's  a  vera  springtide  o'  good  fortune,"  said  the 
Elder,  "and  I  am  a  grateful  auld  man." 

"Weel,  then,"  cried  Madame,  "here  comes  the  tea 
and  the  hot  scones;  and  I  ken  they  are  as  good  as 
a  feast.  It's  a  thanksgiving  meal  and  no  less ;  come 
to  the  table  wi'  grateful  hearts,  children.  I'm  think 
ing  the  tide  has  turned  for  the  Semples;  and  when 
the  tide  turns,  wha  is  able  to  stop  it  ?" 

The  turn  of  the  tide!  How  full  of  hope  it  is! 
Not  even  Maria  was  inclined  to  shadow  the  cheer 
ful  atmosphere.  Indeed,  she  was  grateful  to  Lord 
Medway  for  the  fresh,  living  element  he  had  brought 
into  the  house.  Life  had  been  gloomy  and  full  of 
small  mortifications  to  her  since  the  unfortunate 
Bradley  affair.  Her  friends  appeared  to  have  for 
gotten  her,  and  the  dancing  and  feasting  and  sleigh 
ing  went  on  without  her  presence.  Even  her  home 
had  been  darkened  by  the  same  event;  her  grand 
father  had  not  quite  recovered  the  shock  of  his 
arrest ;  her  grandmother  had  made  less  effort  to  hide 
her  own  failing  health.  Neil  had  a  heartache  about 
Agnes  that  nothing  eased,  and  the  whole  household 
felt  the  fear  and  pinch  of  poverty  and  the  miserable 
uncertainty  about  the  future. 

Maria  bore  her  share  in  these  conditions,  and  she 
had  also  began  to  wonder  and  to  worry  a  little  over 
Lord  Medway's  apparent  indifference.  If  he  really 
loved  her,  why  did  he  not  give  her  the  recognition 
of  his  obvious  friendship  ?  His  presence  and  atten 
tions  would  at  least  place  her  beyond  the  spite  and 


236    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

envy  of  her  feminine  rivals.  Why  did  he  let  them 
have  one  opportunity  after  another  to  smile  disdain 
on  her  presence,  or  to  pointedly  relegate  her  to  the 
outer  darkness  of  non-recognition  ?  When  she  had 
examined  all  her  slights  and  sorrows,  Lord  Med- 
way's  neglect  was  the  most  cutting  thong  in  the 
social  scourge. 

Madame  Jacobus,  however,  was  correct  in  her 
opinion.  Medway  was  making  in  these  days  of 
lonely  neglect  a  progress  which  would  have  been 
impossible  had  he  spent  them  at  the  girl's  side.  And 
if  he  had  been  aware  of  every  feeling  and  event  in 
the  lives  of  the  Semples,  he  could  not  have  timed  his 
hour  of  reappearance  more  fortunately,  for  not  only 
was  Maria  in  the  depths  of  despondency,  but  the 
Elder  had  also  begun  to  believe  his  position  and 
credit  much  impaired.  He  had  been  passed,  avoided, 
curtly  answered  by  men  accustomed  to  defer  to 
him ;  and  he  did  not  take  into  consideration  the  per 
sonal  pressure  on  these  very  men  from  lack  of 
money,  or  work,  or  favor;  nor  yet  those  accidental 
offenses  which  have  no  connection  with  the  people 
who  receive  them.  In  the  days  of  his  prosperity  he 
would  have  found  or  made  excuses  in  every  case, 
but  a  failing  or  losing  man  is  always  suspicious,  and 
ready  to  anticipate  wrong. 

But  now !  Now  it  would  be  different.  As  he 
drank  his  tea  and  ate  his  buttered  scone  he  thought 
so.  "It  will  be  good-morning,  Elder.  How's  all 
with  you?  Have  you  heard  the  news?  and  the  like 
of  that.  It  will  be  a  different  call  now."  And  he 
looked  at  Maria  happily,  and  began  to  forgive  her 
for  the  calamity  she  had  brought  upon  them.  For 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      237 

it  was  undeniable  that  even  in  her  home  she  had 
been  made  to  feel  her  responsibility,  although  the 
blame  had  never  been  voiced. 

She  understood  the  change,  and  was  both  happy 
and  angry.  She  did  not  feel  as  if  any  one — grand 
father,  grandmother,  Lord  Medway,  or  Uncle  Neil 
—had  stood  by  her  with  the  loyal  faith  they  ought 
to  have  shown.  All  of  them  had,  more  or  less,  sus 
pected  her  of  imprudence  and  reckless  disregard  of 
their  welfare.  All  of  them  had  thought  her  capable 
of  ruining  her  family  for  a  flirtation.  Even  Agnes, 
the  beginning  and  end  of  all  the  trouble,  had  been 
cold  and  indifferent,  and  blamed,  and  left  her  with 
out  a  word.  And  as  she  did  not  believe  herself  to 
have  done  anything  very  wrong,  the  injustice  of  the 
situation  filled  her  with  angry  pain  and  dumb  re 
proach. 

Lord  Medway's  straightforward  proposal  cleared 
all  the  clouds  away.  It  gave  her  a  position  at  once 
that  even  her  grandfather  respected.  She  was  no 
longer  a  selfish  child,  whose  vanity  and  folly  had 
nearly  ruined  her  family.  She  was  the  betrothed 
wife  of  a  rich  and  powerful  nobleman,  and  she  knew 
that  even  socially  reprisals  of  a  satisfactory  kind 
would  soon  be  open  to  her.  The  dejected,  self- 
effacing  manner  induced  by  her  culpable  position 
dropped  from  her  like  a  useless  garment;  she  lifted 
her  handsome  face  with  confident  smiles;  she  was 
going,  not  only  to  be  exonerated,  but  to  be  set  far 
above  the  envy  and  jealousy  of  her  enemies.  For 
Medway  had  asked  her  to  go  sleighing  with  him  on 
the  following  day,  and  she  expected  that  ride  to 
atone  for  many  small  insults  and  offenses. 


238    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

Twice  during  the  night  she  got  up  in  the  cruel 
cold  to  peep  at  the  stars  and  the  skies.  She  wanted 
a  clear,  sunny  day,  such  a  day  as  would  bring  out 
every  sleigh  in  the  fashionable  world;  and  she  got 
her  desire.  The  sun  rose  brilliantly,  and  the  cold 
had  abated  to  just  the  desirable  point;  the  roads, 
also,  were  in  perfect  condition  for  rapid  sleighing, 
and  at  half-past  eleven  Medway  entered  the  parlor, 
aglow  with  the  frost  and  the  rapid  motion. 

His  fine  presence,  his  hearty  laugh,  his  genial 
manners,  were  irresistible.  He  bowed  over  Ma- 
dame's  hand,  and  then  drew  Maria  within  his 
embrace.  "Is  she  not  a  darling?  and  may  I  take 
her  for  an  hour  or  two,  grandmother?"  he  asked. 
And  Madame  felt  his  address  to  be  beyond  opposi 
tion.  He  had  claimed  her  kinship;  he  had  called 
her  "grandmother,"  and  she  gave  him  at  once  the 
key  of  her  heart. 

As  they  stood  all  three  together  before  the  fire,  a 
servant  man  entered  and  threw  upon  the  sofa  an 
armful  of  furs.  "I  have  had  these  made  for  you, 
Maria/'  said  Medway.  "Look  here,  my  little  one! 
Their  equals  do  not  exist  outside  of  Russia."  And 
he  wrapped  her  in  a  cloak  of  the  finest  black  fox 
lined  with  scarlet  satin,  and  put  on  her  head  a  hood 
of  scarlet  satin  and  black  fox,  and  slipped  her  hands 
into  a  muff  of  the  same  fur  lined  with  scarlet  satin ; 
and  when  they  reached  the  waiting  sleigh  he  lifted 
her  as  easily  as  a  baby  into  it,  and  seating  himself 
beside  her,  off  they  went  to  the  music  in  their  hearts 
and  the  music  in  the  bells ;  and  the  pace  of  the  four 
horses  was  so  great  that  Madame  declared  "all  she 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      239 

could  see  was  a  bundle  of  black  fur  and  flying  scarlet 
ribbons." 

That  day  Maria's  cup  of  triumph  was  full  and 
running  over.  Before  they  had  reached  the  half 
way  house  they  had  met  the  entire  fashionable  world 
of  New  York,  and  every  member  of  it  had  under 
stood  that  Maria  Semple  and  Lord  Medway  would 
now  have  to  be  reckoned  with  together.  For  Med 
way  spoke  to  no  one  and  returned  no  greeting  that 
did  not  include  Maria  in  it.  Indeed,  his  neglect  of 
those  who  made  this  omission  was  so  pointed  that 
none  could  misconstrue  it.  Maria  was,  therefore, 
very  happy.  She  had  found  a  friend  and  a  defender 
in  her  trouble,  and  she  was,  at  least,  warmly  grate 
ful  to  him.  He  could  see  it  in  her  shining  eyes,  and 
feel  it,  oh,  so  delightfully !  in  her  unconscious  draw 
ing  closer  and  closer  to  him,  so  that  finally  his  hands 
were  clasping  hers  within  the  muff  of  black  fox,  and 
his  face  was  bending  to  her  with  that  lover-like,  pro 
tecting  poise  there  was  no  mistaking. 

"Are  you  satisfied,  Maria?  Are  you  happy?"  he 
asked,  when  the  pace  slackened  and  they  could  talk 
a  little. 

"Oh,  yes !"  she  answered.  "But  why  did  you  wait 
so  long?  I  was  suffering.  I  needed  a  friend;  did 
you  not  understand  ?" 

"But  you  had  a  sorrow  I  could  not  share.  I  did 
not  blame  you  for  it.  It  was  but  natural  you  should 
weep  a  little,  for  the  young  man  had  doubtless  made 
some  impression.  He  was  a  gallant  fellow,  and  be 
tween  life  and  death  carried  himself  like  a  prince. 
I  am  glad  I  was  able  to  save  his  life;  but  I  did  not 


24o    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

wish  to  see  you  fretting  about  him;  that  was  also 
natural." 

She  did  not  answer,  nor  did  he  seem  to  expect  an 
answer.  But  she  was  pleased  he  did  not  speak 
slightingly  of  Harry.  Had  he  done  so,  she  felt  that 
she  would  have  defended  him ;  and  yet,  in  her  deep 
est  consiousness  she  knew  this  defense  would  have 
been  forced  and  uncertain.  The  circumstances  were 
too  painful  to  be  called  from  the  abyss  of  past 
calamity.  It  was  better  everything  should  be  for 
gotten.  And  with  the  unerring  instinct  of  a  lover, 
Medway  quickly  put  a  stop  to  her  painful  reverie  by 
words  that  seldom  miss  a  woman's  appreciation.  He 
told  her  how  much  he  had  longed  to  be  with  her; 
how  tardily  the  weeks  had  flown ;  how  happy  it  made 
him  to  see  her  face  again.  He  called  her  beautiful, 
bewitching,  the  loveliest  creature  the  sun  shone  on, 
and  he  said  these  things  with  that  air  of  devoted 
respect  which  was  doubly  sweet  to  the  girl,  after  the 
social  neglect  of  the  past  weeks.  Finally  he  asked 
her  if  she  was  cold,  and  she  answered : 

''How  can  I  be  cold?  These  exquisite  furs  are 
cold-proof.  Where  did  you  get  them  ?  I  have  never 
seen  any  like  them  before." 

"I  got  them  in  St.  Petersburg.  I  was  there  two 
years  ago  on  a  political  embassy,  and  while  I  was 
waiting  until  you  partly  recovered  yourself  I  had 
my  long  coat  cut  up  and  made  for  you.  I  am 
delighted  I  did  it.  You  never  looked  so  lovely  in 
anything  I  have  seen  you  wear.  Do  you  like  them, 
Maria,  sweet  Maria?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  so  ravishing  that 
he  had  there  and  then  no  words  to  answer  it.  He 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      241 

spoke  to  the  driver  instead,  and  the  horses  bounded 
forward,  and  so  rapid  was  the  pace  that  the  city 
was  soon  reached,  and  then  her  home.  Neil  was  at 
the  gate  to  meet  them,  and  Medway  lifted  Maria  out 
of  the  sleigh  and  gave  her  into  his  care.  "I  will  not 
keep  the  horses  standing  now ;"  he  said,  "but  shall 
I  call  to-morrow,  Maria,  at  the  same  time?"  And 
she  said,  "Yes,"  and  "I  have  had  a  happy  drive." 
So  he  bowed  and  went  away  in  a  dash  of  trampling 
horses  and  jingling  bells,  and  Maria  watched  him 
a  moment  or  two,  being  greatly  impressed  by  his 
languid,  yet  masterful,  air  and  manner,  the  result  of 
wealth  long  inherited  and  of  social  station  beyond 
question. 

With  a  sigh — and  she  knew  not  why  she  sighed 
— Maria  \vent  into  the  house.  She  was  now  quite 
forgiven ;  she  could  feel  that  she  was  once  more 
loved  without  reservation,  and  also  that  she  had  be 
come  a  person  of  importance.  It  was  a  happy 
change,  and  she  did  not  inquire  about  it,  or  dampen 
the  pleasure  by  asking  for  reasons.  She  took  off 
her  beautiful  furs,  showed  them  to  her  grandmother 
and  grandfather,  and  told  at  what  personal  sacrifice 
Lord  Medway  had  given  them  to  her.  And  then, 
drawing  close  to  the  hearth,  she  described  the  people 
they  had  met,  and  the  snubs  and  recognitions  given 
and  received.  It  was  all  interesting  to  Madame, 
and  even  to  the  Elder ;  the  latter,  indeed,  was  in  ex 
traordinary  high  spirits,  and  added  quite  as  much 
salt  and  vinegar  to  the  dish  of  gossip  as  either  of  the 
women. 

In  spite,  therefore,  of  the  bitter  weather  and  the 
scarcity  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  the  world  went 


242    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

very  well  again  for  the  Semples ;  and  though  at  the 
end  of  December,  Clinton  sailed  southward,  Lord 
Medway  had  a  furlough  for  some  weeks,  so  that  in 
this  respect  the  military  movement  did  not  interfere 
with  Maria's  social  pleasures.  Two  days  before  the 
embarkment  of  the  troops  Colonel  DeLancey  called 
one  morning  on  the  Elder.  He  had  sold  a  piece  of 
property  to  the  government,  and  in  making  out  the 
title  information  was  wanted  that  only  Elder  Sem- 
ple,  who  was  the  original  proprietor,  could  give. 
DeLancey  asked  him,  therefore,  to  drive  back  with 
him  to  the  King's  Arms  and  settle  the  matter,  and 
the  Elder  was  pleased  to  do  so.  Anything  that  took 
him  among  his  old  associates  and  gave  him  a  little 
importance  was  particularly  agreeable,  and  in  spite 
of  the  cold  he  went  off  in  the  highest  spirits. 

The  King's  Arms  was  soon  reached,  and  he  found 
in  its  comfortable  parlor  General  Ludlow,  Recorder 
John  Watts,  Jr.,  Treasurer  Cruger,  Commissioners 
DeGeist  and  Housewert,  and  Lawyer  Spiegel. 
After  Semple's  arrival  the  business  which  had  called 
them  together  was  soon  settled,  and  it  being  near 
noon,  Ludlow  called  for  a  bottle  of  old  port  and 
some  beef  sandwiches.  The  room  was  warm  and 
bright,  the  company  friendly  and  well  informed  on 
political  matters,  and  a  second  bottle  was  drunk  ere 
they  made  a  movement  to  break  up  the  pleasant 
meeting.  Then  Ludlow  arose,  and  for  a  few  min 
utes  they  stood  around  the  blazing  fire,  the  Elder 
very  happy  in  the  exercise  of  his  old  influence  and 
authority.  But  just  as  they  were  going  to  shake 
hands  the  door  was  flung  open  and  Captain  Mac- 
pherson  appeared.  For  a  moment  he  stood  irreso- 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      243 

lute,  then  he  suddenly  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had 
chanced  upon  a  great  opportunity  for  placing  him 
self  right  with  the  public,  and  so,  advancing  toward 
Elder  Semple,  who  had  pointedly  turned  his  back 
upon  him,  he  said : 

"Elder,  I  am  grateful  for  this  fortunate  occasion. 
I  wish  before  these  gentlemen  to  assure  you  that  I 
did  my  duty  with  the  most  painful  reluctance.  I 
beg  you  to  forgive  the  loss  and  annoyance  this  duty 
has  caused  you." 

Then  Semple  turned  to  him.  His  eyes  were  flash 
ing,  his  face  red  and  furious.  He  looked  thirty  years 
younger  than  usual,  as  with  withering  scorn  he 
answered: 

"Caitiff!     Out  of  my  sight!" 

"No,  sir,"  continued  the  foolish  young  man,  "not 
until  you  listen  to  me.  As  a  soldier  and  a  gentle 
man,  I  had  a  duty  to  perform." 

"You  hae  covered  the  names  o'  'soldier'  and  'gen 
tleman'  wi'  infamy.  Duty,  indeed!  What  duty  o' 
yours  was  it  to  examine  a  letter  that  came  to  a  house 
where  you  were  making  an  evening  call  ?  No  mat 
ter  how  the  letter  came — through  the  window  or  by 
the  door — you  had  nae  duty  in  the  matter.  It  was 
your  cursed,  curious,  spying  impertinence.  No  gen 
tleman  would  hae  opened  it.  The  letter  was  not 
directed  to  you, — you  admitted  that  in  court.  God 
in  Heaven!  What  right  had  you  to  open  it?" 

"Allow  me  to  ask,  Elder,  what  you  would  have 
done  if  you  had  been  an  officer  in  His  Majesty's 
service  and  had  been  placed  in  the  same  circum 
stances?" 

"Done?     Why,  you  villain,  there  was  only  one 


244    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

thing  to  do,  and  an  officer,  if  he  was  a  gentleman, 
would  have  done  it, — given  the  letter  to  Miss  Brad 
ley  unopened.  She  was  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
and  entitled  to  see  the  letters  coming  to  it.  What 
had  you  to  do  wi'  her  letters  ?  If  you  had  kept  your 
fingers  frae  picking  and  your  e'en  frae  spying,  you 
would  not  have  put  yoursel'  in  an  utterly  shamefu' 
dilemma." 

"In  these  times,  sir 

"In  this  case  the  times  are  nae  excuse.  Mr.  Brad 
ley  was  believed  by  everybody  to  be  a  friend  of  His 
Majesty.  You  had  nae  reason  whatever  to  suppose 
a  treasonable  note  would  come  to  his  house.  You 
did  not  suppose  it.  My  God,  sir !  if  our  letters  are 
to  be  examined  by  His  Majesty's  officers,  wha  is 
safe?  An  enemy  might  throw  a  note  full  o'  treason 
through  a  window,  and  if  you  happened  to  be  calling 
there- 

"Mr.  Semple,  you  are  insulting." 

"I  mean  to  be  insulting.  What  right  had  you 
to  speak  to  me  ?  You  Judas !  who  could  eat  my 
bread,  and  borrow  my  siller,  and  pretend  to  love  my 
granddaughter.  You  have  smirched  your  colors 
and  dishonored  your  sword,  and  you  deserve  to  be 
drummed  out  o'  your  regiment;  you  do  that,  you 
eternal  scoundrel,  you !" 

By  this  time  the  Elder's  voice  filled  the  room,  and 
he  brought  his  cane  down  as  if  it  were  twenty. 
"Out  o'  my  sight,"  he  shouted,  "or  I'll  lay  it  o'er 
your  shoulders,  you  blackguard  aboon  ten  thou 
sand;" 

"Your  age,  sir!  your  age!"  screamed  the  enraged 
young  fellow ;  but  his  words  almost  choked  him,  and 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      245 

de  Geist  and  Cruger  took  him  forcibly  out  of  the 
room. 

Then  DeLancey  filled  a  glass  with  wine.  "Sit 
down  and  drink  it,  Elder,"  he  said.  "Afterward  I 
shall  have  the  great  honor  and  pleasure  of  driving 
you  home."  And  the  approval  of  every  one  present 
was  too  marked  to  be  misunderstood.  Semple  felt 
it  in  every  handclasp,  and  saw  it  in  every  face. 

Also,  Semple  had  his  own  approval,  and  the  result 
of  it  in  his  voice  and  manner  troubled  Janet.  She 
was  ignorant  of  its  cause,  and  the  Elder  was  not 
prepared  to  tell  her.  "The  fool  may  think  himself 
bound  to  challenge  me,"  he  thought,  "and  I'll  e'en 
wait  till  he  does  it,  or  else  till  Clinton  carries  him 
awa'  to  fight  rebels." 

But  he  was  nearly  betrayed  by  Neil,  who  entered 
the  parlor  in  an  almost  buoyant  manner  for  one  so 
naturally  grave.  "Why,  father,"  he  said,  "what  is 
this  I  hear?"  and  then  he  suddenly  stopped,  having 
caught  his  father's  warning  glance 

"You  hae  heard  many  things  doubtless,  Neil,"  an 
swered  the  Elder,  "and  among  them  that  I  and 
DeLancey  were  driving  together.  We  had  a  rather 
cheerful  time  at  the  King's  Arms  o'er  a  bit  of  trans 
ferring  business.  The  government  must  hae  clear 
titles,  you  ken,  to  the  property  it  buys." 

"A  clear  title  is  beyond  the  government,"  inter 
rupted  Madame,  "and  the  government  needna'  fash 
itsel'  about  titles.  Nane  that  can  be  made  will  hold 
good  much  longer  for  the  government.  Sit  down, 
Neil,  and  see  if  you  can  steady  your  father  a  bit ;  he's 
as  much  excited  about  a  ride  wi'  auld  DeLancey  as 
if  King  George  himsel'  had  gien  him  a  ride  in  his 


246   A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 

chariot;"  and  she  flipped  her  dress  scornfully  to  the 
words  as  she  left  the  room  to  give  some  household 
order. 

"You  vera  near  told  tales  on  me,  Neil,"  said  the 
old  man  gleefully ;  "and  there's  nae  need  to  mention 
the  bit  o'  scrimmage  till  we  see  if  it's  finished.  The 
lad  might  send  me  a  challenge,"  he  added  with  a 
little  mirthful  laugh. 

"Not  he,  father!  If  he  did,  I  should  quickly  an 
swer  it." 

"You  would  mind  your  ain  business,  sir.  As 
long  as  I  bide  in  this  warld  I'll  do  my  ain  fighting, 
if  I  die  for  it." 

"There's  none  can  do  it  better,  father.  Errol  told 
me  your  scorn  overwhelmed  Macpherson;  and  he 
said,  moreover,  that  if  the  quarrel  had  come  to  blows 
he  had  no  doubt  you  would  have  caned  the  scoundrel 
consumedly.  They  are  talking  of  the  affair  all  over 
town,  and  DeLancey  is  quite  beyond  himself  about 
it.  I  heard  him  say  that,  though  your  hands  quiv 
ered  with  passion,  you  stood  firm  as  a  rock,  and 
that  there  were  a  few  minutes  at  the  last  when  no 
man  could  have  tackled  you  safely."  Then  there 
was  a  sudden  pause,  for  Madame  reentered,  and 
the  Elder  looked  at  her  in  a  way  so  full  of  triumph 
and  self-satisfaction  that  he  troubled  her.  "To 
think  o'  Alexander  Semple  being  sae  set  up  wi' 
DeLancey's  nod  and  smile,"  she  thought. 

Then  Neil  turned  the  conversation  on  the  social 
events  of  the  day,  and  the  topic  allowed  Madame 
some  scope  for  the  relief  of  her  annoyance.  Yet 
her  anxiety  about  her  husband  continued,  for  the 
Elder  was  in  extraordinarily  high  spirits.  His 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      247 

piquant,  pawkie  humor  finally  alarmed  Madame. 
"Alexander,"  she  said,  "you  had  better  go  awa'  to 
your  bed.  I  dinna  like  to  hear  you  joking  out  o' 
season,  as  it  were.  What  has  come  o'er  you,  man?" 

"Hear  to  your  mother,  Neil!"  he  answered. 
"When  I  sit  still  and  silent,  she  asks,  'Have  you  nae- 
thing  to  say,  auld  man  ?'  and  when  I  say  something 
she  doesna'  like  my  way  o'  joking,  and  is  for  send 
ing  me  awa'  to  bed  for  it,  as  if  I  was  a  bairn.  How 
ever,  the  day  is  o'er,  and  we  hae  had  the  glory  o'  it, 
and  may  as  weel  get  rested  for  the  day  to  come." 

He  left  the  room  in  his  old  sober  fashion,  with 
a  blessing  and  a  "Good-night,  children,"  and  Ma 
dame  followed  him.  Maria  rose  with  her ;  she  was 
anxious  to  carry  her  thoughts  into  solitude.  But 
Neil  sat  still  by  the  fireside,  dreaming  of  Agnes 
Bradley,  and  yet  finding  the  dream  often  invaded 
by  the  thought  of  the  retributive  scene  in  the  parlor 
of  the  King's  Arms.  And  perhaps  never  in  all  his 
life  had  Neil  loved  and  honored  his  father  more  sin 
cerely. 

When  Madame  returned  to  the  room  he  came  sud 
denly  out  of  his  reverie.  He  saw  at  once  that  his 
mother  was  strangely  troubled.  She  sat  down  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  thin,  trembling  hands,  and 
when  Neil  bent  over  her  with  a  few  soothing  words 
she  sobbed : 

"Oh,  my  dear  lad,  I'm  feared  your  father  is  fey, 
or  else  he  has  been  drinking  beyond  his  reason ;  and 
goodness  knows  what  nonsense  he  has  been  saying. 
The  men  who  brought  sae  much  wine  out  may  have 
done  it  to  set  him  talking;  and  anyway,  it  shames 
me,  it  pains  me,  to  think  o'  Alexander  Semple  being 


248    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

the  butt  o  'a  lot  o'  fellows  not  worthy  to  latch  his 
shoe  buckles.  But  he's  getting  auld,  Neil,  he's  get 
ting  auld ;  and  he's  always  been  at  the  top  o'  the  tree 
in  every  one's  respect,  and  I  canna  bear  it." 

"Dear  mother,  never  has  father  stood  so  high  in 
all  good  men's  opinion  as  he  stands  this  night.  He 
has  a  little  secret  from  you,  and,  I  dare  say,  it  is  the 
first  in  his  life,  and  it  is  more  than  wine  to  him.  It 
is  the  secret,  not  the  wine." 

"What  is  it,  Neil?    What  is  it?" 

Then  Neil  sat  down  by  his  mother's  side,  and 
looking  into  her  face  with  his  own  smiling  and 
beaming,  he  told  her  with  dramatic  power  and  pas 
sion  the  story  of  "the  bit  scrimmage,"  as  the  Elder 
defined  the  wordy  battle,  adding,  "There  is  not 
a  man,  young  or  old,  in  New  York,  that  this  night  is 
more  praised  and  respected  for  his  righteous  wrath 
than  Alexander  Semple.  As  for  Quentin  Macpher- 
son,  he  may  go  hang !" 

And  long  before  the  story  was  finished  Madame 
was  bridling  and  blushing  with  pride  and  pleasure. 
"The  dear  auld  man!  The  brave  auld  man!"  she 
kept  ejaculating;  and  her  almost  uncontrollable  im 
pulse  was  to  go  to  him  and  give  him  the  kiss  and  the 
few  applauding  words  which  she  knew  would  crown 
his  satisfaction.  But  Neil  persuaded  her  to  dissem 
ble  her  delight,  and  then  turned  the  conversation  on 
the  condition  of  the  city. 

"It  is  bad  enough,"  he  said.  "Famine  and  freez 
ing  will  soon  be  here,  and  the  town  is  left  under  the 
orders  of  a  hired  mercenary — a  German,  a  for 
eigner,  who  neither  understands  us  nor  our  lives  or 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      249 

language.  It  is  a  shameful  thing.  Was  there  no 
Englishman  to  defend  New  York?  Every  citizen, 
no  matter  what  his  politics,  is  insulted  and  sulky, 
and  if  Washington  attacks  the  city  in  Clinton's  ab 
sence,  which  he  will  surely  do,  they  won't  fight 
under  Knyphausen  as  they  would  under  a  country 
man.  Even  DeLancey  would  have  been  better.  I, 
myself,  would  fight  with  a  DeLancey  leading,  where 
I  would  be  cold  as  ice  behind  Knyphausen." 

"When  men  are  left  to  themselves  what  fools  they 
are,"  said  Madame. 

'They  don't  think  so.  You  should  hear  the  talk 
about  what  Clinton  is  going  to  do  in  the  South,  and 
he  will  find  Cornwallis  too  much  for  him." 

"How  is  that?      Cornwallis?" 

"Cornwallis  hates  Clinton  passionately;  he  will 
sacrifice  everything  rather  than  cooperate  with  him. 
Clinton  successful  would  be  worse  than  his  own  dis 
grace.  Yet  Clinton  is  sure  he  will  succeed  in  sub 
duing  the  whole  South." 

"And  Knyphausen?" 

"Is  sure  he  will  capture  General  Washington, 
though  Clinton  failed  in  his  alert  for  that  purpose. 
The  four  hundred  light  horsemen  he  despatched 
came  back  as  they  went  twenty-four  hours  after  they 
started  full  of  confidence." 

"What  frightened  them?"  asked  Madame  with  a 
scornful  laugh. 

"The  guides.  They  lost  the  road, — rebels  at 
heart,  doubtless, — the  cold  was  intense,  the  snow 
deep,  and  the  four  hundred  came  home  all  frost 
bitten.  The  wretched  rebel  army  must  have  had  a 


150    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

hearty  laugh  at  Clinton's  'alert' — the  alert  which 
was  to  end  the  war  by  the  capture  of  Washington." 

"How  could  they  expect  such  a  thing?" 

"Well,  Washington  was  living  in  a  house  at  Mor- 
ristown,  some  distance  from  the  huts  occupied  by  the 
army.  The  army  were  in  the  greatest  distress, 
nearly  naked,  hungry  and  cold,  and  the  snow  was 
deep  around  them.  There  was  every  reason  to  hope 
four  hundred  men  on  swift  horses  might  be  alert 
enough  to  surprise  and  capture  the  man  they 
wanted." 

"Nae!  nae!"  cried  Madame.  "The  tree  God 
plants  no  wind  hurts ;  and  George  Washington  is  set 
for  the  defense  and  freedom  o'  these  colonies.  Cold 
and  hungry  men,  snow-strangled  roads,  and  four 
hundred  alerts!  What  are  they  against  the  tree 
God  plants?  Only  a  bit  wind  that  shook  the 
branches  and  made  the  roots  strike  deeper  and  wider. 
And  sae  Clinton's  alert  having  failed,  Knyphau- 
sen  is  trying  for  another ;  is  that  it,  Neil  ?" 

"Yes.      He  considers  Washington's  capture  his 


commission." 


"And  if  he  should  capture  him,  what  then  ?" 

"If  he  is  taken  alive  he  will  die  the  death  of  a 
traitor." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  the  war  would  be  over,  the  idea  of  inde 
pendence  would  be  buried,  and  we  should  be  English 
subjects  forever." 

"And  after  that  comes  a  cow  to  be  shod.  One 
thing  is  as  likely  as  the  other.  The  idea  of  inde 
pendence  will  never  be  buried ;  we  shall  never  again 
be  subjects  of  the  King  o'  Englarid.  In  spite  of  all 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE      251 

the  elements  can  do,  in  spite  of  what  seems  to  us 
impossibilities,  the  tree  God  has  planted  no  wind 
shall  hurt.  Many  a  day,  Neil,  I  have  steadied  my 
soul  and  my  heart  as  I  went  to  and  fro  in  my  house 
singing  or  saying  this  bit  verse,  and  I  wrote  it  my 
ain  sel' : 

No  wind  that  blows  can  ever  kill 

The  tree  God  plants ; 
It  bloweth  east;  it  bloweth  west; 
The  tender  leaves  have  little  rest, 
But  any  wind  that  blows  is  best. 

The  tree  God  plants 
Strikes  deeper  root,  grows  higher  still, 
Spreads  wider  boughs  for  God's  good  will, 

Meets  all  its  wants. 

Neil  sighed,  and  rising  suddenly,  said,  "Let  us  go 
upstairs;  the  room  is  growing  very  cold.  And, 
mother,  do  not  let  father  know  I  have  told  you  about 
his  4bit  scrimage.'  It  would  rob  him  of  the  triumph 
of  his  own  recital." 

"I'll  not  say  a  word,  Neil;  you  may  be  sure  o' 
that." 

And  she  did  not  say  a  word.  Nevertheless,  the 
Elder  looked  queerly  at  Neil  the  following  evening, 
and  when  he  found  an  opportunity,  said,  "You've 
been  telling  tales  on  me,  lad.  Your  mother  hasna 
petted  me  a'  the  day  lang  for  naething.  Some  one 
has  whispered  a  word  in  her  ear.  I  can  see  it  in  her 
e'en  and  hear  it  in  her  voice,  and  feel  it  in  the  stroke 
o'  her  hand.  I  wonder  who  it  was." 

"A  bird  of  the  air  often  carries  such  matters,  sir. 
It  would  be  but  the  generality;  the  particulars  can 
come  from  yourself  only." 

"Aye,  to  be  sure!"  And  he  smiled  and  seated 
himself  comfortably  in  his  chair  before  the  blaze, 


252    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

adding,  "It  was  a  wonderfu'  bit  o'  comfort,  Neil, 
and  you'll  stand  by  me  if  your  mother  thinks  wrong 
o'  it?" 

" Shoulder    to    shoulder,    sir.      You    did    quite 
right." 


CHAPTER   X. 

MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON. 

As  the  days  lengthened,  the  cold  strengthened, 
and  New  York  experienced  a  winter  of  unparallelled 
severity.  Food  could  only  be  procured  with  hard 
money,  and  at  exorbitant  prices,  and  the  scarcity  of 
fuel  added  greatly  to  the  general  distress.  Wall 
Street  surrendered  most  of  its  beautiful  century-old 
shade  trees,  to  warm  the  family  of  the  German  Gen 
eral  Riederel,  and  before  Spring,  the  streets  and 
lanes  of  the  city,  the  gardens  and  pleasure  grounds 
of  the  burghers,  were  shorn  of  their  finest  fruit  and 
shade  trees.  The  aged,  the  very  young,  the  men  in 
the  prisons  and  hospitals  perished  in  great  numbers, 
and  the  deathly  cold  of  the  atmosphere  was  full  of 
the  unspeakable  misery  everywhere  present. 

These  distressing  conditions  were  intensified  by 
the  fear  of  an  attack  from  Washington.  The 
waters  around  New  Y0rk  were  for  several  weeks  so 
hard  frozen  that  the  heaviest  artillery  could  easily 
have  crossed  on  them;  and  the  city  in  losing  its  in 
sular  position,  lost  its  chief  advantage  for  defense 
Knyphausen  constantly  expected  Washington  to 
cross  the  ice,  and  refugees  and  citizens  alike,  were 
formed  into  companies  and  subjected  to  garrison 
duty.  During  the  dark,  bitter  watches,  men  some- 


254    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

times  froze  at  their  posts,  and  women  in  their  un- 
heated  rooms,  knelt  listening  to  the  children's 
breathing,  for  the  atmosphere  was  so  deadly  cold 
that  the  babes  shivered,  even  in  the  covert  of  their 
mothers'  breasts. 

Yet,  in  this  city  of  frost,  and  famine,  and  suffer 
ing,  a  hectic  and  most  unnatural  gaiety  was  kept  up. 
Maria  would  have  little  part  in  it.  She  could  find 
no  pleasure  in  listening  to  comedies  and  songs,  in  a 
freezing  temperature,  and  the  warmth  induced  by 
dancing  was  generally  followed  by  a  most  uncom 
fortable  and  dangerous  chill.  Her  status  in  society 
also  led  her  to  feel  more  content  in  withdrawing 
from  it  a  little.  She  was  not  yet  to  be  classed  among 
the  married  belles,  nor  was  she  quite  at  one  with  the 
girlhood  that  surrounded  her.  Her  engagement  to 
Lord  Medway  had  set  her  a  little  apart;  it  was  un 
derstood  that  she  could  not  be  in  perfect  sympathy 
with  the  plans  and  hopes  of  either  maids  or  wives. 

Yet  her  life  was  far  from  unhappy.  She  visited 
Mrs.  Gordon  and  Mrs.  Jacobus  a  great  deal ;  and  the 
latter  delighted  in  making  little  lunches  and  dinners, 
where  the  three  ladies  were  joined  by  Lord  Medway, 
and  Neil  Semple,  and  very  often  also  by  Major  An 
dre,  whose  versatile  gifts  and  cheerful  temperament 
were  the  necessary  and  delightful  antitheses  to  Neil's 
natural  gravity  and  Medway's  cultivated  restraint. 
The  splendid  rooms  of  Madame  Jacobus  were  warm, 
her  dinners  well  cooked,  her  wines  of  the  finest  qual 
ity,  her  good  nature  never  failing.  She  made  a  pet 
of  Maria,  and  Lord  Medway — reclining  with  half- 
closed  eyes  in  some  luxurious  chair — watched  his 
betrothed  managing  this  clever  woman,  so  much 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      255 

older  than  herself,  with  infinite  satisfaction  and 
amusement.  He  foresaw  that  she  would  be  equal 
to  any  social  position,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him 
that  it  was  likely  she  would  manage  Lord  Medway 
quite  as  thoroughly  as  she  managed  Madame  Jaco 
bus.  Occasionally,  Medway  gave  return  dinners,  at 
which  Madame  Semple  presided,  and  then  Maria  sat 
at  his  right  hand,  and  he  proved  himself  to  be  the 
most  charming  of  hosts,  and  the  most  devoted  and 
respectful  of  lovers. 

Conversation  was  never  to  make,  every  one  spoke 
as  they  listed,  and  as  their  prejudices  or  convictions 
led  them.  There  was  no  Quentin  Macpherson  pres 
ent,  and  opinions  were  as  much  individual  property 
as  purses.  One  day,  toward  the  end  of  January, 
when  the  temperature  was  so  low  that  the  dining- 
table  had  been  drawn  close  to  the  hearth,  the  usual 
party  were  sitting  in  the  warmth  and  glow  of  its 
roaring  fire.  The  dinner  was  over,  the  servants  had 
left  the  room,  Medway  and  Maria  were  picking  their 
walnuts  out  together,  and  Major  Andre  and  Neil 
Semple  talking  of  a  game  of  chess.  Then  Madame 
Jacobus  drawing  her  gay  Indian  shawl  closer 
around  her,  said  suddenly,  'Tray  what  is  the  news? 
Has  nobody  a  mouthful  of  intelligence?  Are  we  to 
wait  for  the  Americans  to  make  us  something  to 
talk  about?" 

"Indeed  Madame,"  answered  Maria,  "we  have 
not  yet  exhausted  their  night  attack  on  the  British 
troops  encamped  on  Staten  Island." 

"They  got  nothing  but  five  hundred  sets  of  frozen 
hands  and  ears,"  said  Major  Andre. 

"Oh,  yes,  they  did,  sir;  blankets  and  food  count 


256     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

for  something  these  days,"  said  Madame,  "not  to 
speak  of  the  nine  vessels  destroyed  at  Decker's  Ferry 
— and  the  prisoners." 
"It  was  a  dashing  absurdity,  Madame." 
"With  all  my  soul;  yet  I  am  glad,  it  was  an 
American  dashing  absurdity." 

"You  should  have  seen  Knyphausen  when  he 
heard  of  it,"  continued  Andre.  He  pulled  his  whis 
kers  savagely  and  said  'Egad!  Damn!  These 
Americans  have  the  come-back-again,  come-back- 
again,  of  the  flies;  to  drive  them  off — it  is  impos 
sible — they  come-back-again.'  We  have,  however, 
had  our  turn.  Four  nights  ago,  our  troops  entered 
Newark  and  Elizabeth  and  made  a  few  reprisals, 
and  then  he  began  to  hum : 

"The  New  York  rebs  are  fat, 

But  the  Jersey  rebs  are  fatter; 
So  we  made  an  expedition, 
And  carried  off  the  latter." 

Medway  laughed.  "Madame,"  he  said,  "the 
Major  was  desperately  dull  last  night,  and  I  won 
dered  at  it.  But,  this  morning,  as  you  hear,  he  is 
delivered  of  his  verse,  and  he  is  cheerful." 

"Oh,  if  the  war  is  degenerating  into  midnight 
robberies!"  cried  Madame,  "why  does  not  Wash 
ington  come?  What  hinders  him  from  at  least  try 
ing  to  get  into  New  York  ?  I  do  believe  if  he  sim 
ply  stood  on  Broadway,  he  would  draw  three- 
fourths  of  the  men  in  the  city  to  him;  why  does  he 
not  try?  It  might  end  this  dreadful  war  one  way 
or  the  other,  and  people  are  beginning  to  be  indiffer 
ent,  which  way.  Why,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  does 
he  not  try?" 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      257 

"It  would  be  a  desperate  'try/  "  answered  Andre. 

"Yes,  but  when  ordinary  means  fail,  desperate 
remedies  should  be  tried." 

"I  saw  the  exact  copy  of  a  letter  written  by  Gen 
eral  Washington  on  the  eighth  of  this  month,"  said 
Lord  Medway,  and  in  it  he  declares  that  his  troops, 
both  officers  and  men,  are  almost  perishing  for  food ; 
that  they  have  been  alternately  without  bread  and 
meat  for  two  weeks,  a  very  scanty  allowance  of 
either,  and  frequently  destitute  of  both.  Further 
more,  he  describes  his  troops  as  almost  naked,  riot 
ous,  and  robbing  the  people  from  sheer  necessity. 
Can  you  expect  a  general  to  lead  men  in  such  a  con 
dition  to  battle?  He  performs  a  miracle  in  simply 
holding  them  together." 

"The  poor  fellows!  And  we  are  warm  and  com 
fortable.  It  seems  almost  wrong." 

"Oh,  no !"  said  Andre.  "It  is  the  rebels  who  are 
wrong ;  they  are  like  runaway  horses,  and,  as  I  said 
to  one  who  talked  to  me,  'my  lad,  a  runaway  horse 
punishes  himself.'  ' 

In  such  freedom  of  conversation,  without  a  mo 
ment's  doubt  of  each  other,  they  passed  the  hours, 
and  about  four  o'clock  the  party  usually  broke  up, 
and  Lord  Medway  wrapped  Maria  in  her  furs,  and 
drove  her  home. 

However,  the  weariest  road  sometimes  comes  to 
an  end,  and  the  long  dreadful  winter  wore  itself 
away,  the  ice  broke  up,  and  the  sun  shone  warmly 
out  of  the  blue  skies,  and  the  trees  put  forth  their 
young,  tender,  little  leaves.  Every  one  was  ready 
to  cry  with  joy,  the  simple  endurance  of  misery  was 
over,  men  could  now  work  and  fight,  and  some 


258    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 


movement  and  change  would  be  possible.  Coming 
home  from  a  delightful  drive  in  the  sweet  Spring 
evening.  Medway  told  Maria  this,  and  added  that 
his  furlough,  so  long  extended  by  General  Clinton's 
love,  would  probably  terminate  as  soon  as  active  hos 
tilities  began.  But  it  was  not  yet  a  present  case,  and 
Maria  did  not  take  the  supposition  to  heart.  Be 
sides,  there  had  been  frequent  talk  of  her  lover's  de 
parture,  and  somehow  or  other,  he  had  never  gone. 
At  the  Semple  gate  they  stood  a  while.  There  were 
some  lilies  growing  near  it,  and  their  fairy-like  bells 
shook  in  the  fresh  wind  and  scattered  incense  all 
around.  Maria  stooped,  gathered  a  handful,  and 
offered  them  to  her  lover. 

"Kiss  them  first,  for  me,  Maria,"  he  said,  and  she 
buried  her  lovely  face  in  the  fragrant  posy,  and  then 
lifted  it  full  of  delight  and  perfume.  He  thought 
he  had  never  before  seen  her  so  purely  exquisite,  so 
freshly  adorable.  His  love  was  a  great  longing,  he 
could  hardly  bear  to  leave  her.  So  he  stood  holding 
her  hands  and  the  lilies,  and  looking  into  her  face, 
but  saying  nothing,  till  Maria  herself  spoke  the  part 
ing  words :  "I  see  grandmother  at  the  door,  Ernest, 
she  is  calling  me ;  now  we  must  say  good-bye !"  He 
could  not  answer  her,  he  only  kissed  the  lilies,  leaped 
into  the  carriage,  and  went  speechlessly  away. 

Maria  watched  him  a  few  moments,  and  then  has 
tened  into  the  house.  Madame  met  her  at  the  door. 
"There  is  a  letter  from  your  father,  Maria,"  she 
said;  "I  thought  you  might  want  to  tell  Ernest  what 
news  it  contained,  so  I  called  you,  but  you  didna  an 
swer  me." 

"Yes,   I  answered,   'coming,   grandmother/   and 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      259 

here  I  am.  What  a  thick  letter!  Have  you  one 
also?" 

"Aye,  there  was  one  for  your  grandfather.  Bet 
ter  take  yours  to  your  room.  When  you  have  read 
it,  and  changed  your  dress,  tea  will  be  waiting." 

"Is  grandfather  at  home?" 

"He  is ;  so  do  not  stay  up  stairs  too  long." 

She  nodded  a  bright  assent,  and  holding  the  letter 
in  her  hand  went  swiftly  up  the  stairway.  In  half 
an  hour  she  came  back  to  the  parlor,  but  her  face 
was  then  troubled  and  even  angry,  and  her  eyes  full 
of  tears.  She  held  out  the  letter  to  her  grand 
mother,  and  asked,  "Do  you  know  what  father  has 
written  to  me  about?" 

"I  have  a  very  sure  suspect,"  answered  Madame; 
but  she  went  on  setting  out  her  china,  and  did  not 
lift  her  face,  or  offer  any  further  opinion. 

"It  is  a  shame!  I  ought  to  have  been  told  be 
fore." 

Then  the  Elder  rose,  and  came  toward  the  tea- 
table,  "Maria,"  he  said,  "you  will  not  use  such  like 
words,  whatever  your  father  pleases  to  do.  I  hae 
nae  doubt  at  all  that  he  has  chosen  a  good  wife  for 
himsel'  and  a  good  mother  for  you.  You  had  a 
long  letter;  what  does  he  say  anent  her?" 

"She  is  a  nonesuch,  of  course.  No  woman  in 
England,  or  out  of  England  like  her." 

"I  expect  as  much;  my  son  Alexander  has  my  ain 
perception  concerning  women-folk.  He  would  hae 
the  best,  or  nane  at  a'.  Wha  was  she  ?  He  said  in 
my  letter  you  would  gie  us  a'  the  particulars." 

"He  has  filled  six  pages  about  her.  She  was  Miss 
Elizabeth  Spencer.  Father  says  her  family  is  one 


a6o   A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

of  the  best  and  oldest  in  England.  The  Reverend 
Oswald  Spencer  married  them;  he  is  rector  of  St. 
Margaret's  Church  in  London,  and  a  distant  rela 
tive." 

"A  very  fashionable  congregation,  and  nae  doubt 
the  living  is  according." 

''Father  has  become  a  member  of  St.  Margaret's, 
and  he  has  a  large  mansion  in  the  wealthy  Blooms- 
bury  district.  He  tells  me  that  I  must  come  home, 
the  first  opportunity  that  gives  me  a  respectable  com 
panion." 

"And  it  is  just  destiny,  Maria,  and  not  to  be  gain- 
sayed,"  said  her  grandmother;  "for  Mrs.  Gordon 
was  here  this  afternoon  to  bid  me  farewell.  Col 
onel  Gordon  has  been  exchanged,  and  has  reached 
New  York,  and  they  sail  in  Saturday's  packet  for 
London.  She  will  be  delighted  to  hae  your  com 
pany,  and  a  mair  proper  person  to  travel  wi'  you 
couldna  find  in  America;  for  it  isna  only  hersel', 
you  will  hae  the  Colonel  also,  to  watch  o'er  you 
baith." 

"Destiny  or  not,  I  won't  go,  grandmother." 

"Dinna  sow  sorrow  to  yoursel'.  They  who  cross 
destiny,  make  a  cross  for  themsel's." 

"I  will  hear  what  Ernest  says  about  it." 

"You  arena  your  am  mistress  yet,  and  God  and 
man,  baith,  expect  you  to  put  your  father's  com 
mands  before  all  others,"  said  the  Elder. 

"I  think  grandmother  and  you  wish  to  get  rid  of 
me,"  and  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  and  she  set 
her  cup  down  with  a  noisy  petulance. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then  the  Elder 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      261 

continued,  "Your  education  isna  finished  yet,  as 
your  father  says;  it  was  broken  up  by  the  war." 

"And  the  lessons  at  Bradley 's  house  were  worse 
than  nane  at  all,"  interrupted  Madame. 

"You  are  to  have  masters  of  a'  kinds;  and  your 
stepmother  is  a  grand  musician,  I  hear,  and  willing 
to  teach  you  hersel'." 

"I  will  not  go  to  school  again.  I  know  all  I  want 
to  know." 

"You  will  hae  to  be  schooled  for  the  station  you 
are  to  fit;  your  father  has  turned  his  loyalty  into 
gold,  for  he  has  got  it  noticed  by  His  Majesty,  and 
been  appointed  to  a  rich  place  in  the  government  of 
fices.  Forbye,  he  tells  me,  his  new  wife  has  a  for 
tune  in  her  ain  right,  and  sae  the  world  stands 
straight  with  him  and  his.  You'll  hae  society  o'  the 
best  sort,  and  I  hope  you'll  do  your  part,  to  show  all 
and  sundry,  that  a  little  Colonial  maid  isna'  behind 
English  girls,  in  any  usefu'  or  ornamental  particu 
lar." 

But  Maria  was  indignant  and  unhappy,  and  the 
thought  of  going  to  London  and  of  being  under  au 
thority  again  was  very  distasteful  to  her.  The 
Elder  went  early  upstairs,  in  order  to  escape  her 
complaining,  and  Madame  after  his  departure,  was 
a  little  more  sympathetic.  She  petted  her  grand 
child,  and  tried  to  make  her  see  the  bright  side  of 
the  new  life  before  her. 

"You'll  be  taken  to  Court,  doubtless,  Maria,  and 
there  is  the  grand  opera  you  have  heard  so  much 
about,  and  lords  and  ladies  for  company " 

"I  have  had  enough  of  lords  and  ladies,  grand 
mother." 


262    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"And  fine  houses,  and  nae  cold  rooms  in  them; 
and  plenty  o'  food  and  clothing  at  Christian  prices, 
and  a  rich,  powerfu'  father,  and  a  musical  moth- 
er- 

"Stepmother  you  mean.  Nobody  can  have  more 
than  one  mother.  My  mother  is  dead,  and  no  other 
woman  can  take  her  place." 

"Ay,  weel,  I  suppose  you  are  nearby  right.  And 
I  hae  seen — mair  than  once  or  twice — that  the  bairn 
who  gets  a  stepmother  gets  a  stepfather,  also. 
Sae  mind  your  ways  and  your  words,  and  give  nae 
occasion  to  friend,  or  foe,  for  complaint." 

As  they  were  talking  thus,  they  heard  the  garden 
gate  open,  and  Madame  said,  "That  is  your  Uncle 
Neil  at  last;"  but  Maria,  with  an  eager,  listening 
face,  knew  better.  "It  is  not  Uncle  Neil,"  she  said, 
"it  is  Ernest.  Why  does  he  come  to-night?  He 
told  me  he  was  going  to  a  military  dinner,  given  in 
honor  of  Colonel  Gordon's  return." 

"If  it  is  Lord  Medway,  bring  him  in  here,"  said 
Madame.  "Your  grandfather  is  needing  me,  and 
doubtless  wondering  and  fretting  already  at  my  de 
laying."  She  left  the  room  with  these  words,  and 
Lord  Medway  immediately  joined  Maria.  He  ap 
peared  hurried  and  annoyed,  and  without  any  pre 
liminaries  said : 

"I  must  leave  New  York  immediately,  my  dear 
Maria;  sit  down  here,  close  beside  me,  my  sweet 
one,  and  comfort  me.  I  have  worn  out  the  patience 
of  Lord  Clinton,  and  now  I  must  obey  orders,  not 
desires." 

"I,  also,  am  in  the  same  predicament,  Ernest.  I 
am  ordered  to  London,  and  must  go  by  the  first  op- 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      263 

portunity,"  said  Maria;  and  then  she  told  her  lover 
the  fear  and  trouble  that  was  in  her  heart,  and  found 
plenty  of  sympathy  in  all  that  either  wounded  or 
angered  her. 

"But  there  is  a  remedy,  my  darling,"  said  Med- 
way.  "Marry  me  to-morrow  morning.  I  will 
make  all  the  arrangements  to-night — see  the  clergy 
man — see  Mrs.  Gordon,  and  your  uncle  Neil 

"Stop,  Ernest.  It  is  useless  to  talk  of  such  a 
thing  as  that.  It  is  beyond  our  compact,  too." 

"The  compact  is  idle  wind  before  our  love — you 
do  love  me,  Maria?  and  he  slipped  down  to  his 
knees  beside  the  little  maid,  and  putting  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  drew  her  face  within  the  shining 
influence,  the  tender  eagerness,  of  his  entreating 
eyes. 

Then  a  strange,  wilful  contradictious  spirit  took 
possession  of  her.  This  very  outlet  to  her  position 
had  been  in  her  mind — though  unacknowledged — 
from  the  first  presentment  of  the  journey,  and  the 
new  mother,  and  the  resumed  lessons ;  but  now,  that 
the  gate  was  opened  to  her  desire,  something  within 
her  obstinately  refused  to  move  a  step.  Half  the 
accidents  in  the  hunting-field  arise  from  arresting 
the  horse  in  the  leap,  and  half  the  disappointments 
of  life  may  be  laid  to  that  hesitation,  or  stubborn 
ness  of  will,  which  permits  happiness — coming  with 
out  notice,  and  demanding  a  confiding  and  instan 
taneous  decision — to  go  past,  and  be  probably  lost 
for  ever. 

"You  do  love  me,  Maria?  Oh,  yes!  you  must 
have  caught  love  from  me.  At  this  hour,  say  one 
word  to  assure  me — will  you  not  ?  Maria !  Queen 


264    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

of  my  soul,  say  you  love  me — Speak — only  yes 

Maria!" 

He  waited,  he  watched  her  lovely  face  for  some 
tender  change,  her  eyes  for  some  assuring  glance, 
her  lips  for  the  one  little  word  that  would  make  the 
hour  heaven  to  him,  and  she  was  still  and  speechless 
as  some  exquisite  picture. 

"After  all  these  happy  weeks,  will  you  send  me 
away  without  one  word?  It  is  incredible — impos 
sible  !  Why  are  you  so  cold  ? — now — when  we  must 
part — or  be  always  together  ?  Are  you  afraid  to  be 
with  me  always?  You  have  promised  to  marry 
me- 

"Yes — when  the  time  comes." 

"Cannot  love  put  the  time  forward?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"We  could  then  go  South  together." 

"I  do  not  want  to  go  South." 

"With  me,  Maria?" 

"No." 

"Then  you  will  go  to  London,  and  your  father 
will  have  complete  control  of  you,  he  may  make  you 
marry  some  other  man." 

"No  one  can  make  me  break  my  word  of  honor — 
you  have  my  promise." 

"I  am  wretched.  I  am  broken-hearted.  I  have 
failed  in  making  you  love  me.  I  will  go  to  the 
front — what  does  it  matter  if  I  am  killed  ?  You  will 
not  care." 

"Of  course  I  shall  care,  Ernest." 

"Say  that  a  little  differently,  then  I  shall  be  satis 
fied.  Put  your  arms  round  my  neck;  kiss  me,  if 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      265 

only  once,  you  never  have  kissed  me  yet,  say,  'I 
love  you,  Ernest' ;  come,  my  dear  one,  comfort  me  a 
little!" 

Her  heart  was  on  fire,  it  throbbed  and  struggled 
like  a  bound  creature.  She  looked  sadly,  even  ten 
derly  at  her  lover,  but  she  could  not  break  the  thrall 
of  careless  impassiveness  that  bound  her,  as  streams 
are  bound  in  ice.  Medway  wearied  himself  with 
entreaty.  She  trembled  to  its  passion,  but  remained 
inarticulate.  He  was  at  first  disappointed,  then  as 
tonished,  then,  weary  with  his  own  emotion,  wound 
ed  and  sorrowful.  He  rose,  put  on  his  hat  and 
gloves,  and  prepared  to  leave  her.  It  was  like  the 
nailing  of  the  coffin  lid  over  a  sensitive  form;  but 
still  that  strange,  insuperable  apathy  was  not  broken. 

"Good-bye,  Maria!  My  life,  my  love,  good-bye! 

and  if  forever,  still Maria!  Maria!"  and  those 

two  last  words  were  not  only  speech,  they  were  a 
cry  from  a  heart  hurt  beyond  hoping,  a  cry  full  of 
despairing  affection.  The  door  closed  to  them,  and 
its  clash  broke  the  icy  bounds  of  that  soul  stupor 
which  had  held  her  like  a  spell. 

"Ernest!  Ernest!"  she  called  passionately,  but 
he  was  beyond  hearing,  and  ere  she  reached  the  par 
lor  door,  she  heard  the  entrance  door  clash  in  the 
same  fatal,  final  manner.  Yet,  walking  as  if  in 
some  evil  dream  she  reached  it,  and  with  a  great 
effort  threw  it  wide  open.  Her  lover  was  just  be 
yond  the  garden  gate.  Would  he  not  turn  his  head  ? 
Oh,  would  he  not  look  round  and  see  her !  No.  He 
caught  no  sound  of  her  sorrowful  entreaty;  he  cast 
no  backward  glance  to  the  distracted  girl,  who 


266     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

reached  the  outer  gate,  only  to  see  his  tall,  soldierly 
figure  blend  itself  with  the  misty  night  shadows, 
and  then  vanish  entirely. 

Never,  never  in  all  her  life  had  Maria  been  so 
wretched.  In  the  Bradley  affair,  she  had  at  least 
the  consciousness  that  it  was  not  her  doing;  she  was 
the  victim  of  circumstances  she  could  not  control; 
but  this  cup  of  sorrow  she  had  stubbornly  mixed  for 
herself.  And  that  was  the  smallest  part  of  her  re 
morse;  she  had  made  the  man  who  loved  her  so 
dearly,  drink  of  it  also.  And  it  had  all  happened  in 
such  a  tragically  short  time.  Oh,  to  call  back  the 
last  hour !  only  five  minutes  of  it,  that  she  might  see 
again  the  handsome  face  that  had  never  turned  to 
her  except  with  love  and  tender  kindness !  Alas,  alas, 
there  is  no  return  to  our  lost  Edens !  Whatever 
gardens  of  pleasure  we  may  find  in  the  future,  our 
past  Edens  are  closed.  The  cherubim  are  at  the 
gate,  and  the  flaming  sword. 

She  went  despairingly  to  her  room,  and  sat  for 
two  bitter  hours  speechless,  astonished  at  her  own 
folly  and  wilfulness.  She  could  blame  no  one. 
Destiny  in  this  case  had  used  only  the  weapons  she 
herself  put  into  her  hand.  She  did  not  complain, 
nor  even  weep,  her  grief  found  no  passage  to  her 
eyes,  it  sank  inward  and  seemed  for  the  first  hour 
or  two  to  drown  her  heart  in  a  dismal,  sullen  still 
ness,  which  made  her  feel  the  most  forlorn  and  aban 
doned  of  creatures. 

But  even  in  these  dark  hours  she  was  trying  the 
wings  that  should  take  her  out  of  them.  As  she  sat 
musing  the  inner  woman  returned  to  the  post  she 
had  so  criminally  deserted,  and  at  once  began  to  sng- 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      267 

gest  remedies.  "Nothing  is  desperate/'  she  whis 
pered;  "in  every  loss,  but  the  loss  of  death,  there 
is  room  for  hope ;  write  a  letter,  Neil  will  take  it,  he 
may  yet  be  detained." 

She  took  out  pen  and  paper,  and  wrote  the  words 
Medway  had  begged  her  to  say;  wrote,  indeed,  far 
more  than  the  one  tender  "yes"  he  had  asked  for. 
Then  she  sealed  the  letter  and  sat  with  it  in  her  hand, 
waiting  for  Neil.  He  was  so  late  that  she  thought 
he  must  have  reached  his  room  unheard,  and  toward 
midnight  she  tip-toed  along  the  corridor  to  his  door. 
There  was  no  light,  no  sound,  and  when  she 
knocked,  no  response.  Anxiously  she  resumed  her 
watch,  and  soon  after  twelve  o'clock  heard  him  enter 
the  house.  She  went  noiselessly  down  stairs  to  meet 
him.  "Neil,"  she  said,  "can  you  find  Ernest?  Oh, 
if  you  can,  you  must  carry  this  letter  to  him !  Neil, 
it  is  the  very  greatest  favor  I  can  ever  ask  of  you. 
Do  not  speak,  if  you  are  going  to  refuse  me." 

"My  dear  Maria,  I  know  not  where  to  find  Lord 
Medway.  He  ought  to  have  been  at  the  dinner 
given  to  Colonel  Gordon,  and  he  was  not  there." 

"He  was  here,"  she  said  wearily;  "he  is  going 
South  at  once ;  he  must,  he  must  have  this  letter  first. 
Neil,  good,  kind  Uncle  Neil,  try  and  find  him !" 

"Be  reasonable,  Maria.  If  he  is  paying  farewell 
calls — which  is  likely — how  can  I  tell  at  whose  house 
he  may  be ;  at  any  rate  it  is  too  late  now  for  him  to 
be  out,  the  city  is  practically  closed;  any  one  wan 
dering  about  it  after  midnight  is  liable  to  arrest,  and 
if  Ernest  is  not  visiting,  he  is  in  his  rooms,  and  likely 
to  be  there  till  near  noon  to-morrow.  I  will  carry 
this  letter  before  breakfast,  if  you  say  so,  but " 


268    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

"I  tell  you  he  is  going  to  General  Clinton  at  once. 
He  told  me  so." 

"He  cannot  go  until  the  Arethusa  sails.  She 
leaves  to-morrow,  but  the  tide  will  not  serve  before 
two  o'clock.  Give  me  the  letter;  I  will  see  he  gets 
it  very  early  in  the  morning." 

With  a  sigh  she  assented  to  this  promise,  and  then 
slipped  back  into  the  sorrowful  solitude  of  her  room. 
But  the  talk  with  Neil  had  slightly  steadied  her. 
Nothing  more  was  possible;  she  had  done  all  she 
could  to  atone  for  her  unkindness,  and  after  a  little 
remorseful  wandering  outside  the  Eden  she  had  her 
self  closed,  she  fell  asleep  and  forgot  all  her  anxiety. 

And  it  is  this  breaking  up  of  our  troubles  by 
bars  of  sleep  that  enables  us  to  bear  them  and  even 
grow  strong  in  conquering  them.  When  the  day 
broke  Maria  was  more  alert,  more  full  of  purpose, 
and  ready  for  what  the  morning  would  bring  her. 
Neil  was  missing  at  breakfast  and  she  found  out  that 
he  had  left  the  house  soon  after  seven  o'clock.  So 
she  dressed  herself  carefully  and  took  her  sewing  to 
the  front  window.  When  she  saw  her  lover  at  the 
gate,  she  intended  to  go  and  meet  him,  and  her 
heart  was  warm  and  eager  with  the  kind  words  that 
she  would  at  last  comfort  him  with. 

It  was  half-past  eight;  by  nine  o'clock — at  the 
very  latest  by  half-past  nine — he  would  surely  an 
swer  that  loving  letter.  Nine  o'clock  struck,  and 
the  hands  on  the  dial  moved  forward  inexorably  to 
ten  o'clock — to  eleven — to  noon.  But  long  before 
that  hour  Maria  had  ceased  to  sew,  ceased  to  watch, 
ceased  to  hope.  Soon  after  twelve  she  saw  Neil 
coming  and  her  heart  turned  sick  within  her.  She 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      269 

could  hardly  walk  into  the  hall  to  meet  him.  She 
found  it  difficult  to  articulate  the  questioning  word 
"Well?" 

He  gave  her  the  letter  back.  "Ernest  sailed  this 
morning  at  two  o'clock,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  with  angry  despair.  "You 
might  have  taken  that  letter  last  night.  You  have 
ruined  my  life.  I  will  never  forgive  you." 

"Maria,  listen  to  me.  Ernest  went  on  board  an 
hour  before  you  asked  me.  The  ship  dropped  down 
the  river  to  catch  the  early  tide;  he  was  on  her  at 
half-past  ten.  I  could  not  have  given  him  the  letter, 
even  if  I  had  tried  to." 

"No;  of  all  the  nights  in  the  year,  you  must  stop 
out  last  night  until  twelve  o'clock!  I  never  knew 
you  do  such  a  thing  before;  well,  as  grandmother 
says,  it  is  destiny ;  I  am  going  to  my  room.  I  want 
no  dinner ;  don't  let  them  worry  me,  or  worry  about 
me." 

Sitting  alone  she  faced  the  circumstances  she  had 
evoked,  considered  them  in  every  light,  and  came  to 
a  conclusion  as  to  her  future : 

"I  will  go  to  London,  and  make  no  fuss  about  it," 
she  decided;  "here  I  should  miss  Ernest  wherever  I 
went;  miss  him  in  every  way,  and  people  would 
make  me  feel  he  was  absent.  I  have  been  a  great 
trouble  and  expense  to  grandfather  and  grand 
mother.  I  dare  say  they  will  be  glad  to  be  quiet  and 
alone  again.  I  don't  know  much  about  father — he 
has  always  been  generous  with  money — but  I  won 
der  if  he  cared  much  for  me!  He  sent  me  away, 
first  to  nurses,  then  to  school;  I  saw  little  of  him, 
but  I  can  make  him  care.  As  for  Madame,  my  step- 


270    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

mother,  I  shall  not  let  her  annoy  me.  And  there  will 
be  Mrs.  Gordon  for  a  refuge,  if  I  need  one.  She 
has  always  been  good  to  me,  and  I  will  see  her  at 
once.  I  cannot  help  understanding  that  I  am  come 
to  the  end  of  this  road ;  but  there  are  many  roads  in 
life,  and  from  this  moment,  I  am  on  the  way  to 
London." 

Evidently  it  was  destiny,  for  there  was  never  a  let 
or  hinderance  in  all  her  preparations.  The  Gordons 
took  her  as  a  godsend,  and  all  her  arrangements 
went  without  a  hitch.  And  when  it  was  known  she 
was  absolutely  going  away  from  New  York  there 
was  a  great  access  of  kindness  toward  her.  The 
young  women  she  had  known — and  not  always 
pleasantly — brought  her  good-bye  mementoes; 
books  to  read  on  the  voyage,  book-marks  of  their 
own  working,  little  bags  and  cases  of  various  kinds 
for  toilet  needs,  and  needlework ;  and  all  were  given 
with  a  conspicuous  intention  of  apology  for  past  of 
fense  and  conciliation  for  any  future  intercourse. 

Maria  valued  it  pretty  accurately.  "It  is  far  bet 
ter  than  ill-will,"  she  said  to  her  grandmother;  "but 
I  dare  say  they  think  I  am  going  home  to  be  married, 
and  as  they  all  look  forward  to  England  eventually, 
they  feel  that  Lady  Medway  may  not  be  unservice 
able  in  the  future." 

"Dinna  look  a  gift-horse  in  the  mouth,  Maria. 
Few  folks  give  away  anything  of  real  value  to  them 
selves.  You  needna  feel  under  any  special  obliga 
tion  for  aught  but  the  good  will,  and  that's  aye 
worth  having.  As  for  being  Lady  Medway,  there 
is  many  a  slip  between  cup  and  lip,  and  oceans 
between  you  and  a'  the  accidents  o'  war,  and  love 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON       271 

not  unchangeable  in  this  warld  o'  change;  and 
there's  your  father's  will  that  may  stand  in  your 
road  like  a  wall  you  can  neither  win  round  nor  over. 
I'm  real  glad  at  this  hour  that  your  grandfather  was 
wise  enough  to  write  naething  about  Lord  Medway. 
You  can  now  tell  your  ain  news,  or  keep  it,  which 
ever  seems  best  to  you." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  grandmother,  that  my  fa 
ther  has  not  been  told  about  my  engagement  to  Lord 
Medway?" 

"Just  so.  At  first  your  grandfather  was  too  ill 
to  write  one  thing  or  another ;  and  by  the  time  he  was 
able  to  hold  a  pen,  we  had,  baith  o'  us,  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  silence  anent  the  matter  was  wisdom. 
It  would  hae  been  a  hard  matter  to  tell,  without  tell 
ing  the  whole  story,  Police  Court  and  young  Brad 
ley  included,  and  then  there  was  aye  the  uncer 
tainty  of  a  man's  love  and  liking  to  be  reckoned 
with ;  none  o'  us  could  be  sure  Lord  Medway  would 
hold  to  his  promise ;  he  might  meet  other  women  to 
take  his  heart  from  you;  he  might  be  killed  in  bat 
tle,  or  in  a  duel,  for  it  is  said  he  has  fought  three 
already;  the  chances  o'  the  engagement  coming  to 
naething  were  so  many  on  every  side  we  came  to  the 
conclusion  to  leave  a'  to  the  future,  and  I'm  sure  we 
did  the  best  thing  we  could  do." 

"I  am  so  glad  you  did  it,  grandmother.  I  shall 
now  go  home  on  my  own  merits.  If  I  win  love,  it 
will  be  because  I  am  Maria  Semple,  not  because  I  am 
going  to  be  Lady  Medway.  And  if  my  engagement 
was  known  I  should  never  hear  the  last  of  it.  I 
should  be  questioned  about  letters — whether  they 
came  or  not;  my  stepmother  might  talk  about  the 


272      A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

matter;  my  father  insist  on  a  public  recognition  of 
my  position,  and  so  on.  There  would  be  such  end 
less  discussions  about  Lord  Medway  that  I  should 
get  weary  to  even  hear  his  name.  And  I  must  bear 
my  fate,  whatever  it  is." 

"Nonsense!  Parfect  nonsense!  There  is  nae 
such  thing  as  fate.  You're  in  the  care  and  guidance 
of  a  wise  and  loving  Creator,  and  not  in  thrall  to 
some  vague,  wandering  creature,  that  you  ca'  Fate. 
Your  ain  will  is  your  Fate.  Commit  your  will  and 
way  to  God,  and  He  will  direct  your  path ;  and  you 
may  snap  your  thumb  and  finger  at  that  will  o'  the 
wisp — Fate !" 

In  such  conversation  over  their  duties  together  the 
three  last  days  were  spent,  and  the  girl  caught  hope 
and  strength  from  the  feeble  old  woman  as  they 
mended  and  brushed  clothing  and  put  it  into  the 
trunks  standing  open  in  the  hall.  The  Elder  wan 
dered  silently  about.  The  packing  was  a  mournful 
thing  to  him ;  for,  with  all  her  impetuosities  and  lit 
tle  troublesome  ways,  Maria  was  close  to  his  heart, 
and  he  feared  he  had  given  her  the  impression  that 
she  was  in  some  way  a  burden.  Indeed,  he  had  not 
felt  this,  and  had  only  been  solicitous  that  she  should 
obey  her  father's  wishes,  and  obey  them  in  a  loving 
and  dutiful  spirit.  On  the  last  morning,  however, 
as  they  rose  from  the  breakfast  table,  he  put  even 
this  wise  intention  behind  his  anxious  love,  and 
drawing  her  aside  he  said : 

"Maria,  my  dearie,  you  will  heed  your  father,  of 
course,  in  a'  things  that  are  your  duty — but — but— 
my  dear  bairn!  I  ken  my  son  Alexander  is  a  mas- 
terfu'  man,  and  perhaps,  it  may  be,  that  he  might  go 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      273 

beyond  his  right  and  your  duty.  I  hae  told  you  to 
obey  him  as  your  father,  that's  right,  but  if  he  is 
your  father,  he  is  my  son,  and  so  speaking  in  that 
relation,  I  may  say,  if  my  son  doesna  treat  you  right, 
or  if  he  lets  that  strange  English  woman  treat  you 
wrong,  then  you  are  to  come  back  to  me — to  your 
auld  grandfather — to  sort  matters  between  you. 
And  I'll  see  no  one  do  you  wrong,  Maria,  no  one, 
though  it  be  my  auldest  son  Alexander.  You  are  in 
my  heart,  child,  and  there  is  always  room  in  my 
heart  for  you;  and  I  speak  for  your  grandmother 
and  uncle  as  well  as  for  mysel'."  His  voice  was  low 
and  broken  at  this  point,  tears  rolled  slowly  down 
his  cheeks,  and  he  clasped  her  tenderly  in  his  arms : 
"God  bless  you  my  little  lassie!  Be  strong  and  of  a 
good  courage.  Act  for  the  best,  and  hope  for  the 
best,  and  take  bravely  whatever  comes." 

To  such  wise,  tender  words  she  set  her  face  east 
ward,  and  the  Elder  and  Neil  watched  the  vessel  far 
down  the  river,  while  in  her  silent  home  Madame 
slowly  and  tearfully  put  her  household  in  order. 
Fortunately,  the  day  was  sunny  and  the  Spring  air 
full  of  life  and  hope,  and  as  soon  as  they  turned 
homeward,  the  Elder  began  to  talk  of  the  possibility 
of  Maria's  return : 

"If  she  isna  happy,  I  hae  told  her  to  come  back  to 
us,"  he  said  to  Neil,  and  then  added :  "Your  brother 
is  sometimes  gey  ill  to  live  wi',  and  the  bit  lassie  has 
had,  maybe,  too  much  o'  her  ain  way  here,"  and  Neil 
wondered  at  the  brave  old  man;  he  spoke  as  if  his 
love  would  always  be  present  and  always  sufficient. 
He  spoke  like  a  young  man,  and  yet  he  was  so  visibly 
aging.  But  Neil  had  forgotten  at  the  moment  that 


274    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


the  moral  nature  is  inaccessible  to  Time ;  that  though 
the  physical  man  grows  old,  the  moral  man  is  eter 
nally  young. 

Not  long  after  the  departure  of  Maria,  Neil  was 
one  morning  sorting  and  auditing  some  papers  re 
garding  the  affairs  of  Madame  Jacobus.  Suddenly 
the  thought  of  Agnes  Bradley  came  to  him  with  such 
intense  clarity  and  sweetness  that  his  hands  dropped 
the  paper  they  held ;  he  remained  motionless,  and  in 
that  pause  had  a  mental  vision  of  the  girl,  while  her 
sweet  voice  filled  the  chambers  of  his  spiritual  ears 
with  melody.  As  he  sat  still,  seeing  and  listening,  a 
faint,  dreamy  smile  brightened  his  face,  and  Ma 
dame  softly  opening  the  door,  stood  a  moment  and 
looked  at  him.  Then  advancing,  the  sound  of  her 
rustling  silk  garments  brought  Neil  out  of  his  happy 
trance,  and  he  turned  toward  her. 

"Dreaming  of  St.  Agnes?"  she  asked,  and  he  an 
swered,  "I  believe  I  was  Madame." 

"Sometimes  dreams  come  true,"  she  continued. 
"Can  you  go  to  Philadelphia  for  me?  Here  is  an 
offer  from  Gouverneur  Morris  for  my  property  on 
Market  Street.  He  proposes  to  turn  the  first  floor 
into  storage  room.  At  present  it  is  a  rather  hand 
some  residence,  and  I  am  not  sure  the  price  he  offers 
will  warrant  me  making  the  change." 

Neil  was  "ready  to  leave  at  any  time,"  he  said, 
and  Madame  added,  "Then  go  at  once.  If  it  is  a 
good  offer,  it  will  not  wait  on  our  leisure." 

He  began  to  lock  away  the  papers  under  his 
hands,  and  Madame  watched  him  with  a  pleasant 
smile.  As  he  rose  she  asked,  "Have  you  heard  any 
thing  yet  from  Miss  Bradley?" 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      275 

"Not  a  word." 

"Do  you  know  where  she  is?" 

"I  have  not  the  least  idea.  I  think  the  Kurds 
know,  but  they  will  not  tell  me." 

"I  will  tell  you  then.     Agnes  is  in  Philadelphia." 

"Madame!     Madame!     I— 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  On  this  slip  of  paper  you  will 
find  her  address.  She  boards  with  a  Quaker  fam 
ily  called  Wakefield — a  mother  and  four  daughters ; 
the  father  and  brothers  are  with  the  American  army. 
I  suppose  you  can  leave  to-day?" 

"In  two  hours  I  will  be  on  the  road.  I  need  but 
a  change  of  clothing  and  a  good  horse." 

"The  horse  is  waiting  you  in  my  stables.  Choose 
which  animal  you  wish,  and  have  it  saddled :  and 
better  mount  here;  you  can  ride  to  Semple  house 
quicker  than  you  can  walk." 

Neil's  face  spoke  his  thanks.  He  waited  for  no 
explanations,  he  was  going  to  see  Agnes;  Madame 
had  given  him  her  address,  it  was  not  worth  while 
asking  how  she  had  procured  it.  But  as  he  left  the 
room  he  lifted  Madame's  hand  and  kissed  it,  and  in 
that  act  imparted  so  much  of  his  feeling  and  his 
gratitude  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  words. 

"Poor  fellow !"  sighed  Madame,  and  then  she 
walkedto  the  window  and  looked  sadly  into  Broad 
way.  "Soldiers  instead  of  citizens,"  she  murmured, 
"war  horses  instead  of  wagon  horses;  that  scream 
ing  fife!  that  braying,  blustering  drum!  Oh,  how 
I  wish  the  kings  of  earth  would  fight  their  own  bat 
tles  !  Wouldn't  the  duello  between  George  of  Eng 
land  and  George  of  America  be  worth  seeing? 


276    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

Lord!     I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life  for  the 
sight." 

With  the  smile  of  triumph  on  her  face  she  turned 
to  see  Neil  re-entering  the  room.  "Madame,"  he 
said,  "I  must  have  appeared  selfishly  ungrateful. 
My  heart  was  too  full  for  speech." 

"I  know,  I  know,  Neil.  I  have  been  suffering 
lately  the  same  cruel  pain  as  yourself.  I  have  not 
heard  from  Captain  Jacobus  for  nearly  a  year. 
Something,  I  fear,  is  wrong;  he  takes  so  many 
risks." 

"He  is  sailing  as  an  American  privateer.  If  he 
had  been  captured  by  the  English,  we  should  have 
heard  of  the  capture." 

"That  is  not  all.  I  will  tell  you  just  what  Jacobus 
would  do,  as  soon  as  he  was  fairly  out  at  sea,  he 
would  call  his  men  together  on  deck,  and  pointing  to 
the  British  colors,  would  say  something  like  this: 
'Men,  I  don't  like  that  bunting,  and  I'm  going  to 
change  it  for  the  flag  of  our  own  country.  If  there 
is  any  one  here  that  doesn't  like  the  American  flag, 
he  can  leave  the  ship  in  any  way  he  chooses/  then 
down  would  go  the  British  flag,  and  up,  with  rattling 
cheers,  the  American.  So  far  he  would  be  only  in 
ordinary  danger,  but  that  is  never  enough  for  Jaco 
bus;  he  would  continue  after  this  extraordinary 
fashion :  'Men,  you  have  all  heard  of  these  French 
and  Spanish  alliances.  As  the  son  of  a  hundred 
thousand  Dutchmen,  I  hate  the  Spaniards,  and  I'm 
going  to  fight  and  sink  every  Spanish  ship  I  meet. 
Allies!  To  the  deep  sea  with  such  allies!  We 
want  no  Spanish  allies ;  we  want  their  ships  though, 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      277 

and  we'll  take  them  wherever  on  the  wide  ocean  we 
can  find  them.'  Then  he  would  put  his  hand  on  his 
first  mate's  shoulder  and  continue,  'Here's  Jack  Ty 
ler,  an  Englishman  from  beard  to  boots,  born  in  the 
city  of  London,  and  there's  more  on  board  like  him. 
What  does  an  Englishman  want  with  Frenchmen? 
Nothing,  only  to  fight  them,  and  that  we'll  do 
wherever  we  meet  them !  And  as  for  English  ships 
coming  our  way,  they're  out  of  their  course,  and 
we'll  have  to  give  them  a  lesson  they'll  remember. 
So  then,  all  of  you,  keep  your  eyes  open  for  English, 
French,  or  Spanish  sails.  Nothing  but  American 
colors  in  American  waters,  and  American  water  rolls 
round  the  world,  as  I  take  it.'  So  you  see,  Neil, 
Jacobus  would  always  have  a  threefold  enemy  to 
fight,  and  I  have  not  a  doubt  that  was  his  first 
thought  when  he  heard  of  our  alliance  with  France 
and  Spain.  And  though  we  might  hear  of  his  cap 
ture  by  a  British  vessel,  it  is  not  likely  we  should  do 
so  if  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  French  or  Spanish 
privateer.  When  you  come  from  Philadelphia  we 
will  consider  this  circumstance;  but  now,  good-bye, 
and  good  fortune  go  with  you." 

It  did  not  take  Neil  long  to  go  to  the  Semple 
house  and  obtain  a  change  of  clothing,  and  after  this 
short  delay  nothing  interfered  with  the  prosperous 
course  of  his  journey.  The  weather  was  delightful, 
and  his  heart  so  full  of  hope  that  he  felt  no  fatigue. 
And  he  had  such  confidence  in  all  Madame  Jacobus 
said,  or  did,  that  no  doubts  as  to  finding  Agnes 
troubled  him.  It  was,  however,  too  late  in  the  even 
ing  of  the  day  on  which  he  reached  Philadelphia,  to 
make  a  call,  and  he  contented  himself  with  locating 


278    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

the  house  to  which  he  had  been  directed.  He  found 
it  in  a  quiet  street,  a  small  brick  house,  with  white 
wooden  shutters,  and  a  tiny  plot  of  garden  in  front. 
No  sign  of  light  or  life  appeared,  and  after  walking  a 
while  in  front  of  it,  he  returned  to  his  inn  and  tried  to 
sleep. 

But  he  was  not  very  successful.  His  hopes  and 
his  fears  kept  him  waking.  He  fancied  the  house 
he  had  been  directed  to  looked  too  silent  and  dark  to 
be  occupied;  he  longed  for  the  daylight  to  come 
that  he  might  settle  this  fear;  and  then  the  possi 
bility  of  its  reality  made  him  sick  with  anxiety  and 
suspense,  holding  a  measure  of  hope,  seemed  better 
than  certain  disappointment.  In  the  morning  his 
rigid,  upright  business  instinct  asserted  itself,  and  he 
felt  that  he  must  first  attend  to  those  affairs  which 
were  the  ostensible  reason  of  his  journey.  So  it  was 
the  early  afternoon  before  he  was  at  liberty  to  grati 
fy  the  hunger  of  his  heart. 

Happily,  when  he  reached  the  house  indicated, 
there  were  many  signs  of  its  occupancy;  the  win 
dows  were  open,  and  he  saw  a  young  woman  sitting 
near  one  of  them,  knitting.  His  knock  was  an 
swered  by  her.  He  heard  her  move  her  chair  and 
come  leisurely  toward  the  door,  which  she  opened 
with  the  knitting  in  her  hand,  and  a  smile  on  her 
face. 

"Does  Mr.  Wakefield  live  here?"  he  asked. 

"This  is  his  house,  but  he  is  not  at  home  now.'* 

"I  was  told  that  Miss  Bradley  of  New  York  was 
staying  here." 

"She  is  here.     Does  thee  want  to  see  her?" 

A  great  weight  rolled  from  Neil's  heart.     "Yes," 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      279 

he  answered,  "will  you  tell  her  that  Mr.  Neil  Semple 
of  New  York  desires  to  speak  with  her." 

She  bowed  her  head,  and  then  took  him  into  a 
small  darkened  parlor.  He  was  glad  the  light  was 
dim ;  he  had  a  feeling  that  he  looked  worse  than  he 
had  ever  looked  in  all  his  life.  He  knew  that  he 
was  pale  and  trembling  with  a  score  of  fears  and 
doubts,  and  the  short  five  minutes  of  suspense 
seemed  to  him  a  long  hour  of  uncertain  apprehen 
sions.  Yet  it  was  barely  five  minutes  ere  he  heard 
Agnes  coming  down  the  stairs,  and  her  steps  were 
quick  and  eager ;  and  he  took  courage  from  the  wel 
coming  sound  in  them,  and  as  the  door  opened,  went 
with  open  arms  to  meet  her.  He  held  her  in  his  em 
brace,  her  cheek  was  against  his  cheek — what  need 
was  there  for  speech?  Both  indeed  felt  what  they 
had  no  power  to  express,  for  as  all  know  who  have 
lived  and  loved,  there  is  in  the  heart  feelings  yet 
dumb;  chambers  of  thought  which  need  the  key  of 
new  words  to  unlock  them.  Still,  in  that  heavenly 
silence  all  was  said  that  each  heart  longed  for,  and 
when  at  length  they  sat  down  hand  in  hand  and 
began  to  talk,  it  was  of  the  ordinary  affairs  of  the 
individual  lives  dear  to  them. 

Neil's  first  inquiry  concerned  John  Bradley  and 
his  son,  and  he  was  glad  to  notice  the  proud  pleasure 
with  which  Agnes  answered  him.  "My  father  is 
now  in  his  proper  place,"  she  said,  "and  I  have  never 
seen  him  so  well  and  so  happy." 

"Is  he  under  arms?" 

"Not  unless  there  is  fighting  on  hand;  but  he  is 
in  camp,  and  all  day  he  is  busy  mending  the  accoutre 
ments  of  the  soldiers.  At  night  he  sings  to  them  as 


280    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

they  sit  round  the  camp  fires,  or  he  holds  a  prayer 
meeting,  or  he  reads  the  Bible;  and  every  Sunday 
he  preaches  twice.  St.  Paul  made  tents,  and  as  he 
stitched  found  time  to  preach  Jesus  Christ  crucified ; 
my  father  mends  saddles  and  bridles,  and  does  the 
same  thing,  and  he  is  happy,  oh,  so  happy!  What 
is  better  still,  he  makes  the  men  around  him  happy 
and  hopeful,  and  that  is  a  great  thing  to  do,  when 
they  are  hungry,  and  naked,  and  without  pay. 
Sometimes,  when  the  camp  is  very  bare  and  hungry, 
he  takes  his  implements  and  goes  to  the  outlying 
farms,  mends  all  their  leather,  and  begs  in  return 
corn,  and  flour,  and  meat  for  the  men.  He  never 
fails  in  getting  some  relief;  and  often  he  has  so 
moved  the  poor  farmers  that  they  have  filled  a  wagon 
with  food  and  driven  it  to  the  perishing  soldiers." 

"And  Harry?     Where  is  he?" 

"With  the  greatest  and  best  of  men.  He  is  now  a 
regular  soldier  in  Washington's  own  regiment." 

"I  am  glad,  and  my  dear  one,  are  you  happy 
here?" 

"As  I  can  be,  out  of  my  own  home.  There  are 
six  women  in  this  house ;  all  the  men  are  at  the  war ; 
some  at  Morristown;  some  are  gone  South.  We 
spend  our  time  in  knitting  stockings  for  the  soldiers, 
or  in  any  needlework  likely  to  be  of  service.  But 
how  is  Maria  ?  Tell  me  about  her.  I  thought  you 
might  have  brought  me  a  letter." 

"Maria  is  on  her  way  to  England.  Her  father 
has  married  again.  He  has  obtained  an  excellent 
place  in  the  government  and  furnished  a  home  in 
London.  Naturally,  he  desired  Maria  to  join  him 


MARIA  GOES  TO  LONDON      281 

at  once.  You  know  that  she  is  engaged  to  Lord 
Medway?" 

"No.  Poor  Harry!  He  still  dreams  that  Maria 
is  faithful  to  him.  I  think  she  might  have  given 
Harry  one  year's  remembrance." 

"What  did  she  tell  you  about  Harry  in  your  last 
interview?" 

"Nothing.  She  was  more  fretful  and  unreason 
able  than  I  ever  before  saw  her.  She  could  only 
cry  and  make  reproaches ;  we  parted  in  sorrow,  and 
I  fear  in  misunderstanding." 

"Yes,  if  you  do  not  know  the  price  paid  for  your 
brother's  life." 

"The  price  paid!     What  do  you  mean,  Neil?" 

"The  night  Harry  was  condemned  to  death  Lord 
Medway  came  to  see  Maria.  He  told  her  he  would 
save  Harry's  life,  if  she  would  marry  him.  He 
would  listen  to  no  compromise,  and  she  accepted  the 
terms.  It  was  a  decision  bitter  as  death  at  the  time, 
but  she  has  learned  to  love  Medway." 

Agnes  did  not  appear  to  listen,  she  was  occupied 
with  the  one  thought  that  Maria  had  been  the  sav 
iour  of  her  brother. 

"It  seems  incredible,"  she  said  at  length;  "why 
did  she  not  tell  me  that  last — last  time  I  saw  her.  It 
would  have  changed  everything.  Oh,  Maria! 
Maria!  how  I  have  misjudged  you!" 

"You  had  better  tell  Harry,  and  be  very  positive, 
there  is  really  not  a  shadow  of  hope  for  him.  Maria 
had  to  forget;  it  was  her  first  duty." 

Neil  spent  nearly  three  days  with  his  beloved,  and 
then  they  had  to  part.  But  this  parting  was  full  of 


282    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

hope,  full  of  happy  plans  for  the  future,  full  of  prom 
ises  in  all  directions.  In  those  three  days  Neil  for 
got  all  the  sorrowful  weeks  of  his  despairing  love. 
As  a  dream  when  one  awaketh,  they  slipped  even 
from  his  memory.  For  Agnes  was  loving  and  faith 
ful,  a  steady  hand  to  hold,  and  a  steady  heart  to 
trust.  And  oh,  she  was  so  lovely  and  desirable !  As 
he  rode  joyfully  home,  he  could  think  of  nothing  but 
Agnes ;  of  her  eyes,  gray  as  mountain  lakes  and  full 
of  light  and  shadow;  of  her  smile,  that  filled  even 
silence  with  content;  her  white  arms,  her  brown 
hair,  the  warm  pallor  of  her  cheeks  catching  a  rosy 
glow  from  the  pink  dimity  she  wore !  Oh,  how  per 
fect  she  was!  Beauty!  Love!  Fidelity!  all  in 
one  exquisite  woman,  and  that  one  woman  loved 
him! 

Ah,  well!  Love  wakes  men  once  in  a  lifetime, 
and  some  give  thanks  and  rejoice,  and  some  neglect 
and  betray;  but  either  way,  love,  and  their  child 
hood's  unheeded  dream 

Is  all  the  light,  of  all  their  day. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE. 

MARIA  reached  London  in  the  early  days  of  June. 
Her  voyage  had  been  uneventful,  and  though  long, 
not  unpleasant.  Still  she  was  glad  to  feel  the  earth 
beneath  her  feet,  and  the  stir  of  trafficking  humanity 
around  her.  They  landed  late  in  the  afternoon  and 
she  remained  with  the  Gordons  all  night,  but  early 
the  following  morning  the  colonel  took  her  to 
Bloomsbury.  Mr.  Semple's  house  was  not  difficult 
to  find;  it  was  the  largest  in  the  fine  square,  an  im 
posing  mansion  of  red  brick  with  a  wide  flight  of 
stone  steps  leading  to  its  main  entrance.  This  en 
trance  impressed  Maria  very  much.  It  was  so 
ample  and  so  handsome. 

"I  think,  indeed,  said  the  Colonel  to  her,  "two 
sedan  chairs  could  easily  be  taken  in,  or  out,  at  the 
same  time." 

Her  welcome,  if  not  effusive,  was  full  of  kindness 
and  interest;  she  was  brought  at  once  to  the  sunny 
parlor  at  the  back  of  the  house  where  her  father  and 
stepmother  were  breakfasting,  and  nothing  could 
have  been  more  properly  affectionate  than  the  lat- 
ter's  greeting.  And  although  she  had  breakfasted 
with  the  Gordons,  she  found  it  pleasant  enough  to 
sit  down  beside  her  father  and  talk  of  the  voyage 


284    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

and  the  war,  and  the  conditions  of  life  in  America. 
He  was  obviously  both  astonished  and  delighted 
with  his  daughter;  her  beauty  was  so  great,  her 
manner  so  charming,  her  conversation  so  full  of 
clever  observations,  that  he  felt  her  to  be  a  personal 
credit.  "There  are  very  few  young  girls  so  per 
fectly  formed,  so  admirably  finished,"  he  said  to 
himself;  and  he  rose  and  walked  loftily  about  the 
room,  proudly  aware  of  the  piquant  loveliness  and 
intelligence  of  the  girl  who  called  him  father.  The 
word  sounded  well  in  his  ears,  and  even  touched  his 
heart;  and  she  herself  was  a  crowning  grace  to  his 
splendid  habitation.  And  for  her,  and  for  all  her 
beauties  and  graces  and  accomplishments,  he  took 
the  entire  credit.  She  was  his  daughter,  as  much 
his  property  as  his  wife,  or  his  house,  or  his  purse. 

This  appropriation  of  herself  did  not  then  dis 
please  Maria.  She  was  longing  to  be  loved,  long 
ing  to  be  cared  for  and  protected.  And  she  loved 
her  father,  and  felt  that  she  could  easily  love  him  a 
great  deal  more.  His  appearance  invited  this  feel 
ing.  He  was  a  strikingly  handsome  man,  though 
touching  fifty  years  of  age,  tall  and  erect  like  her 
grandfather,  but  with  a  manner  much  more  haughty 
and  dictatorial.  He  was  dressed  in  a  dark  blue  cloth 
coat  lined  with  white  satin  and  ornamented  with 
large  gilt  buttons;  his  long  vest  and  breeches  were 
of  black  satin,  his  stockings  of  black  silk,  and  his 
low  shoes  clasped  with  gold  latches.  He  wore  his 
own  hair  combed  back  from  his  large  ruddy  face 
and  tied  behind  with  a  black  ribbon. 

His  new  wife  was  very  suitable  to  him.  She  was 
thirty-eight  years  old  and  distinctly  handsome,  tall 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     285 

and  fair,  rather  highly  colored,  and  dressed  with 
great  care  in  a  morning  robe  of  Indian  silk.  She  was 
very  cheerful  and  composed,  had  fine  health,  lived 
in  the  unruffled  atmosphere  of  her  interests,  and  had 
no  nerves  worth  speaking  of — a  nice  woman  appar 
ently,  who  would  always  behave  as  nice  women  were 
then  taught  to  behave.  And  yet  there  were  within 
her  elements  much  at  variance  with  that  habitual 
subservience  she  showed  her  husband.  Maria  was 
not  long  in  discovering  that,  though  she  spoke  little 
and  never  boasted,  she  got  all  she  wished  to  get  and 
did  all  she  wished  to  do. 

After  Mr.  Semple  had  gone  to  business  she  took 
Maria  to  the  rooms  prepared  for  her.  They  were 
light  and  airy  and  prettily  furnished,  and  Mrs.  Sem 
ple  pointed  out  particularly  the  little  sitting-room 
attached.  It  contained  a  small  library  of  books 
which  are  now  classic,  a  spinnet  for  practice,  maps 
and  globes,  and  a  convenient  desk  furnished  with  all 
the  necessary  implements  for  writing  or  correspond 
ence. 

Maria  had  fully  resolved  not  to  be  forced  into  any 
kind  of  study,  but  as  she  stood  listening  to  her  step 
mother's  plans  and  explanations  she  changed  her 
mind.  She  resolved  rather  to  insist  on  the  finest 
teachers  London  could  furnish.  She  would  perfect 
herself  in  music  and  singing ;  she  would  enlarge  her 
knowledge  and  accomplishments  in  every  direction, 
and  all  this  that  she  might  astonish  and  please  Lord 
Medway  when  he  came  for  her.  That  he  would 
do  so  she  never  doubted ;  and  he  could  not  doubt  her 
love  when  he  saw  and  heard  what  she  had  done  to 
make  herself  more  worthy  of  him. 


286     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

But  this  incitement  she  kept  to  herself.  She  per 
mitted  her  father  and  stepmother  to  believe  that  the 
fulfilling  of  their  desires  was  her  sole  motive,  and 
this  beautiful  obedience  gave  her  much  liberty  in 
other  directions.  So  the  weeks  and  months  went 
past  very  pleasantly.  She  had  an  Italian  singing 
master  and  a  French  dancing  master,  Kalkbrenner 
gave  her  music  lessons,  Madame  Jermyn  taught  her 
embroidery  and  lace,  and  two  hours  every  day  were 
spent  in  the  study  of  history  and  geography,  and  her 
much  neglected  grammar.  It  was  all  pleasant 
enough ;  every  master  or  mistress  brought  in  a  fresh 
element,  a  little  gossip,  a  different  glimpse  of  the 
great  city  in  which  they  all  lived.  And  the  prepara 
tion  of  her  studies  and  the  practice  of  her  music  gave 
her  almost  unbounded  control  of  her  time.  If  things 
were  not  agreeable  down  stairs  her  study  was  a  safe 
retreat,  and  she  began  to  take  off  their  shelves  the 
books  provided  for  her  amusement  and  instruction, 
and  to  make  friends  of  them  and  become  familiar 
with  their  thoughts  and  opinions. 

The  evenings  were  often  spent  at  the  theatre  or 
opera,  and  still  more  frequently  at  Vauxhall  or 
Ranelagh  gardens,  and  at  the  latter  places  she  was 
always  sure  of  a  personal  triumph.  Her  beauty  was 
so  remarkable  and  so  admirably  set  off  by  her  gen 
erally  fine  toilets  that  she  quickly  became  a  noted 
visitor.  Sir  Horace  Walpole  had  called  her  on 
one  occasion  "The  American  Beauty,"  and  the  sobri 
quet  clung  like  a  perfume  to  her.  When  the  Sem- 
ples  had  a  box  and  a  supper  in  the  rotunda  the  most 
noble  and  fashionable  of  the  young  bloods  hung 
round  it,  paraded  past  it,  or  when  possible  took  a  box 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     287 

in  such  close  proximity  that  their  toasts  to  "The 
Divine  American"  could  be  distinctly  or  indistinctly 
heard.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Semple  were  proud  of 
this  notoriety.  It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
social  elat  of  the  age  that  every  glass  should  be 
raised  when  they  entered  their  box  at  the  theatre  or 
opera;  quite  honorable  and  flattering  to  walk  be 
tween  the  admiring  beaux  who  watched  their  entry 
into  the  gardens.  Maria  gave  them  distinction,  ex 
hilarating  notice  and  attention.  She  was  spoken  of 
in  the  papers  as  "the  lovely  Miss  Semple,  the  beauti 
ful  daughter  of  our  new  collector,"  and  her  debut 
at  the  next  spring  functions  of  the  Court  was  confi 
dently  predicted. 

The  break  in  this  generally  agreeable  life  came, 
of  course,  through  a  man's  selfish  desires,  dignified 
with  the  name  of  love.  Mrs.  Semple  had  a  cousin 
who  was  largely  engaged  in  the  Mediterranean  trade 
— then  entirely  in  English  hands — and  when  Maria 
had  been  about  eighteen  months  in  London  he  re 
turned  to  that  city  after  a  sojourn  in  Turkey  and 
the  Greek  islands  of  nearly  three  years.  He  had 
been  named  at  intervals  to  Maria,  but  his  existence 
had  made  no  impression  upon  her,  and  she  was  as 
tonished  on  coming  to  the  dinner  table  one  day  to 
meet  him  there.  The  instinct  of  conquest  was  im 
mediately  aroused;  she  smiled  and  he  was  subdued. 
The  man  who  had  snubbed  Turkish  bashaws  and 
won  concessions  from  piratical  beys  in  Tunis  and 
Algiers  was  suddenly  afraid  of  a  woman.  He  might 
have  run  away,  but  he  did  not;  he  was  under  a  spell, 
and  he  went  with  her  to  the  opera,  and  became  her 
willing  slave  thereafter. 


288    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

Now  during  her  residence  in  London,  Maria  had 
had  many  admirers;  some  she  had  frowned  away, 
some  her  father  had  bowed  out,  but  Richard  Spencer 
was  a  very  different  man  to  be  reckoned  with.  He 
was  Mrs.  Semple's  cousin,  and  Mrs.  Semple  was 
strongly  attached  to  every  member  of  her  family. 
Cousin  Richard's  suit  was  advocated,  pressed,  even 
insisted  upon  by  her.  He  was  present  at  every  meal 
and  went  with  them  to  every  entertainment,  and  the 
generality  of  Maria's  admirers  understood  that  he 
was  her  accepted  lover. 

In  fact,  this  relationship  was  speedily  assumed  by 
the  whole  Semple  household,  and  before  the  man 
had  even  had  the  courage  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife  she 
was  made  to  understand  that  her  marriage  to  Cousin 
Richard  was  a  consummation  certain  and  inevitable. 
Of  course  she  rebelled,  treating  the  supposition  at 
first  as  an  absurdity,  and,  when  this  attitude  was  re 
sented  and  punished,  as  an  impossibility. 

The  affair  soon  became  complicated  with  business 
relations  and  important  money  interests,  Mr.  Sem 
ple  becoming  a  silent  partner  in  the  gigantic  ventures 
of  the  Spencer  Company.  He  had  always  felt,  even 
in  Maria's  social  triumphs,  a  proprietary  share;  she 
was  his  daughter,  he  could  give  or  refuse  her  society 
to  all  who  asked  it.  She  had  never  denied  his  power 
to  dismiss  all  the  pretenders  to  her  favor  that  had  as 
yet  asked  it.  He  considered  himself  to  have  an 
equal  right  to  grant  her  hand  to  the  suitor  he  thought 
proper  for  her. 

And  as  his  interests  became  more  and  more  asso 
ciated  with  Mr.  Spencer's  he  became  more  and  more 
positive  in  Mr.  Spencer's  favor.  There  was  little 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     289 

need  then  for  Mrs.  Semple's  diplomacies.  He  had 
"taken  the  matter  in  his  own  hands"  he  said,  "and  he 
should  carry  it  through/' 

For  some  time  Maria  did  not  really  believe  that 
her  father  and  stepmother  were  in  earnest,  but  on 
her  twentieth  birthday  the  position  was  made  pain 
fully  clear,  for  when  she  came  to  the  breakfast  table 
her  father  kissed  her,  an  unusual  token  of  affec 
tion,  and  put  into  her  hand  an  order  on  his  banker 
for  a  large  sum  of  money. 

"It  is  for  your  wedding  clothes,  Maria,"  he  said, 
"and  I  wish  you  to  have  the  richest  and  best  of 
everything.  Such  jewels  as  I  think  necessary  I  will 
buy  for  you  myself.  Our  relatives  and  friends  will 
dine  with  you  to-day  and  I  shall  announce  your  en 
gagement." 

"But  father!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  do  not  want  to 
marry.  Let  me  return  this  money.  Indeed,  I  can 
not  spend  it  for  wedding  clothes.  The  idea  is  so 
absurd !  I  do  not  want  to  marry." 

"Maria,  you  are  twenty  years  old  this  twenty- 
fifth  of  November.  It  is  time  you  settled  yourself. 
Mr.  Spencer  will  have  his  new  house  ready  by  the 
end  of  next  June.  As  nearly  as  I  can  tell,  your 
marriage  to  him  will  take  place  on  the  twenty-ninth 
of  June.  Your  mother  thinks  that  with  the  help 
of  needlewomen  your  clothing  can  be  finished  by 
that  time." 

"I  told  Mr.  Spencer  a  month  ago  that  I  would  not 
marry  him." 

"All  right;  girls  always  say  such  things.  It  ap 
pears  modest,  and  you  have  a  certain  privilege  in 
this  respect.  But  I  advise  you  not  to  carry  such 
pretty  affectations  too  far." 


290    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"Father,  I  do  not  love  Mr.  Spencer." 

"He  loves  you,  that  is  the  necessary  point.  It  is 
not  proper,  it  is  not  requisite  that  a  girl  should  take 
love  into  her  consideration.  I  have  chosen  for  you 
a  good  husband,  a  man  who  will  probably  be  Lord 
Mayor  of  London  within  a  few  years,  and  the  pros 
pect  of  such  an  honor  ought  to  content  you." 

It  is  difficult  for  an  American  girl  at  this  time  to 
conceive  of  the  situaton  of  the  daughters  of  England 
in  the  year  1782.  The  law  gave  them  absolutely 
into  their  father's  power  until  they  were  twenty-one 
years  old;  and  the  law  was  stupendously  strength 
ened  and  upheld  by  universal  public  approval,  and 
by  barriers  of  social  limitations  that  few  women  had 
the  daring  to  cross.  Maria  was  environed  by  influ 
ences  that  all  made  for  her  total  subjection  to  her 
parent's  will,  and  at  this  time  she  ventured  no  fur 
ther  remark.  But  her  whole  nature  was  insurgent, 
and  she  mentally  promised  herself  that  neither  on 
the  twenty-ninth  of  June  nor  on  any  other  day  that 
followed  it  would  she  marry  Richard  Spencer. 

After  breakfast  she  went  to  her  room  to  consider 
her  position,  and  no  one  prevented  her  withdrawal. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  she  can  do,"  said  Mr.  Semple 
to  his  wife.  "A  little  reflection  will  show  her  the 
hopeless  folly  of  resistance  to  my  commands." 

"Her  behavior  is  not  flattering  to  Richard." 

"Richard  has  more  sense  than  to  notice  it.  He 
said  to  me  that  'there  was  always  a  little  chaffering 
before  a  good  bargain/  He  understands  women." 

"Maria  has  been  brought  up  badly.  She  has  dan 
gerous  ideas  about  the  claims  and  privileges  and 
personal  rights  of  women." 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     291 

"Balderdash !  Claims  of  women,  indeed !  Give 
them  the  least  power,  and  they  would  stake  the  world 
away  for  a  whim.  See  that  she  dresses  herself 
properly  for  dinner.  I  have  told  her  I  shall  then 
announce  her  engagement,  and  in  the  midst  of  all 
our  relatives  and  friends  she  will  not  dare  to  deny  it." 

In  a  great  measure  Mr.  Semple  was  correct. 
Maria  was  not  ready  to  deny  it,  nor  did  she  think  the 
relatives  and  friends  had  anything  to  do  with  her 
private  affairs.  She  made  no  answer  whatever  to 
her  father's  notice  of  her  approaching  marriage,  and 
the  congratulations  of  the  company  fell  upon  her 
consciousness  like  snowflakes  upon  a  stone  wall. 
They  meant  nothing  at  all  to  her. 

The  day  following  Mrs.  Semple  went  to  buy  the 
lawn  and  linen  and  lace  necessary  for  the  wedding 
garments.  Maria  would  not  accompany  her;  her 
stepmother  complained  and  Maria  was  severely  rep 
rimanded,  and  for  a  few  days  thoroughly  frightened. 
But  a  constant  succession  of  such  scenes  blunted 
her  sense  of  fear.  She  remembered  her  grand 
father's  brave  words,  "Be  strong  and  of  good  cour 
age,"  and  gradually  gathered  herself  together  for 
the  struggle  she  saw  to  be  inevitable.  To  break  her 
promise  to  Lord  Medway!  That  was  a  thing  she 
never  would  do!  No,  not  even  the  law  of  England 
should  make  her  utter  words  false  to  every  true  feel 
ing  she  had.  And  day  by  day  this  resolve  grew 
stronger,  as  day  by  day  it  was  confronted  by  a  trial 
she  hardly  dared  to  contemplate. 

There  was  no  one  to  whom  she  could  go  for  advice 
or  sympathy.  Mrs.  Gordon  was  in  Scotland,  where 
her  husband  had  an  estate,  and  she  had  no  other  inti- 


292    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

mate  friend.  But  at  the  worst,  it  was  only  another 
year  and  then  she  wrould  be  her  own  mistress  and 
Ernest  Medway  would  come  and  marry  her.  Of 
this  result  she  never  had  one  doubt.  True,  she 
heard  very  little  from  him ;  but  if  not  one  word  had 
come  to  assure  her  she  would  .still  have  been  confi 
dent  that  he  would  keep  his  word,  if  alive  to  do  so. 
Letter-writing  was  not  then  the  easily  practised  re 
lief  it  is  now,  and  she  knew  Lord  Medway  disliked 
it.  Yet  she  was  not  without  even  these  evidences 
of  his  remembrance,  and  considering  the  conditions 
of  the  country  in  which  they  had  been  written,  the 
great  distance  between  them,  the  difficulty  of  getting 
letters  to  New  York  and  the  uncertainty  of  getting 
letters  from  New  York  to  England,  these  evidences 
of  his  affection  had  been  fairly  numerous.  All  of 
them  had  come  enclosed  in  her  Uncle  Neil's  letters, 
and  without  mention  or  explanation,  for  Neil  was 
sympathetically  cautious  and  did  not  know  what 
effect  they  might  have  on  the  life  of  Maria,  though 
he  did  not  know  his  letters  were  sure  to  be  inquired 
after  and  read  by  her  parents. 

They  were  intensely  symbolic  of  a  man  who  pre 
ferred  to  do  rather  than  to  say,  and  are  fairly  repre 
sented  by  the  three  quoted : 

"SWEETEST  MARIA:  Have  you  forgiven  your 
adoring  lover? 

ERNEST." 

"MY  LITTLE  DARLING  :  I  have  been  wounded.  I 
have  been  ill  with  fever ;  but  no  pain  is  like  the  pain 
of  living  away  from  you. 

ERNEST." 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     293 

"STAR  OF  MY  LIFE  :  I  have  counted  the  days  until 
the  twenty-fifth  of  November ;  they  are  two  hundred 
and  fifty-five.  Every  day  I  come  nearer  to  you,  my 
adorable  Maria. 

ERNEST/' 

This  last  letter  was  dated  March  the  fourteenth, 
and  with  it  lying  next  her  heart,  was  it  likely  she 
would  consent  to  or  even  be  compelled  to  marry 
Richard  Spencer?  She  smiled  a  positive  denial  of 
such  a  supposition.  But  for  all  that,  the  prepara 
tions  went  on  with  a  stubborn  persistence  that  would 
have  dismayed  a  weaker  spirit.  The  plans  for  fur 
nishing  the  Spencer  house,  the  patterns  of  the  table 
silver,  all  the  little  items  of  the  new  life  proposed  for 
her  were  as  a  matter  of  duty  submitted  to  her  taste 
or  judgment.  She  was  always  stolidly  indifferent, 
and  her  answer  was  invariably  the  same,  "I  do  not 
care.  It  is  nothing  to  me."  Then  Mr.  Semple  would 
answer  with  cold  authority,  "You  have  excellent 
taste,  Elizabeth.  Make  the  selection  you  think  best 
for  Maria." 

Mr.  Spencer's  method  was  entirely  different.  He 
treated  Maria's  apathetic  unconcern  with  constant 
good  nature,  pretended  to  believe  it  maidenly  mod 
esty^  and  under  all  circumstances  refused  to  under 
stand  or  appropriate  her  evident  dislike.  But  his 
cousin  saw  the  angry  sparkle  in  his  black  eyes,  and 
to  her  he  had  once  permitted  himself  to  say,  "I  am 
bearing  now,  Elizabeth.  When  she  is  Mrs.  Spencer 
it  will  be  her  turn  to  bear."  And  Elizabeth  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  repeat  the  veiled  threat  to 
Maria's  father. 


294    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

Med way's  last  letter,  dated  March  the  fourteenth, 
did  not  reach  Maria  until  May  the  first.  On  the 
morning  of  that  day  she  had  been  told  by  Mrs.  Sem- 
ple  to  dress  and  accompany  her  to  Bond  Street. 

"We  are  going  to  choose  your  wedding  dress," 
she  said,  "and  I  do  hope,  Maria,  you  will  take  some 
interest  in  it.  I  have  spoken  to  Madame  Delamy 
about  the  fashion  and  trimmings,  and  your  father 
says  I  am  to  spare  no  expense." 

"I  will  not  have  anything  to  do  in  choosing  a  wed 
ding  dress.  I  will  not  wear  it  if  it  is  made." 

"I  think  it  is  high  time  you  stopped  such  out 
rageous  insults  to  your  intended  husband,  your 
father  and  myself.  I  am  astonished  your  father  en 
dures  them.  Many  parents  would  consider  you 
insane  and  put  you  under  restraint." 

"I  can  hardly  be  under  greater  restraint,"  an 
swered  Maria  calmly,  but  there  was  a  cold,  sick 
terror  at  her  heart.  Nevertheless  she  refused  to 
take  any  part  in  the  choosing  of  the  wedding  dress, 
and  Mrs.  Semple  went  alone  to  make  the  selection. 

But  Maria  was  at  last  afraid.  "Under  restraint !" 
She  could  not  get  the  words  out  of  her  consciousness. 
Surely  her  dear  grandfather  had  had  some  pre 
science  of  this  grave  dilemma  when  he  told  her  if  she 
was  not  treated  right  to  come  back  to  him.  But  how 
was  she  to  manage  a  return  to  New  York  ?  Women 
then  did  not  travel,  could  not  travel,  alone.  No  ships 
would  take  her  without  companions  or  authority. 
She  did  not  know  the  first  of  the  many  steps  neces 
sary,  she  had  no  money.  She  was,  in  fact,  quite  in 
the  position  of  a  little  child  left  to  its  own  helpless 
ness  in  a  great  city.  The  Gordons  would  be  likely  to 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     295 

come  to  London  before  the  winter,  but  until  then  she 
could  find  neither  ways  nor  means  for  a  return  to 
New  York.  All  she  could  do  was  to  take  day  by  day 
the  steps  that  circumstances  rendered  imperative. 

The  buying  of  the  wedding  dress  brought  things 
so  terribly  close  to  her  that  she  finally  resolved  to 
tell  her  father  and  stepmother  of  her  engagement  to 
Lord  Medway.  "I  will  take  the  first  opportunity," 
she  said  to  herself,  and  the  opportunity  came  that 
night.  Mr.  Spencer  was  not  present.  They  dined 
alone,  and  Mr.  Semple  was  indulging  one  of  those 
tempers  which  made  him,  as  his  father  had  said  to 
Neil,  "gey  ill  to  live  with."  He  had  been  told  of 
Maria's  behavior  about  the  wedding  dress,  and  the 
thundery  aspect  of  his  countenance  during  the  meal 
found  speech  as  soon  as  the  table  was  cleared  and 
they  were  alone.  He  turned  almost  savagely  to  his 
daughter  and  asked  in  a  voice  of  low  intensity : 

"What  do  you  mean,  Miss,  by  your  perverse  tem 
per?  Why  did  you  not  go  with  your  mother  to 
choose  your  wedding  dress?" 

"Because  it  is  not  my  wedding  dress,  sir.  I  have 
told  you  for  many  weeks  that  I  will  not  marry  Mr. 
Spencer;"  then  with  a  sudden  access  of  courage, 
"and  I  will  not.  I  am  the  promised  wife  of  Lord 
Medway." 

Mr.  Semple  laughed,  and  then  asked  scornfully, 
"And  pray,  who  is  Lord  Medway?" 

"He  is  my  lover;  my  husband  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  next  November." 

All  the  passion  and  pride  of  a  lifetime  glowed  in 
the  girl's  face.  Her  voice  was  clear  and  firm,  and  at 
that  hour  she  was  not  a  bit  afraid.  "I  will  tell  you 


296    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

about  him,"  she  continued,  and  her  attitude  had  in 
those  few  minutes  so  far  dominated  her  audience  that 
she  obtained  the  hearing  she  might  otherwise  not 
have  gained.  Rapidly,  but  with  singular  dramatic 
power,  she  related  the  story  of  her  life  in  New  York 
—her  friendship  with  Agnes  Bradley,  the  attraction 
between  herself  and  Harry  Bradley,  his  arrest,  trial 
and  death  sentence,  Lord  Medway's  interference  and 
her  own  engagement,  her  subsequent  intimacy  with 
the  man  she  had  promised  to  marry,  and  the  love 
which  had  sprung  up  in  her  heart  for  him." 

"And  I  will  not  break  my  word,  not  a  letter  of  it," 
she  said  in  conclusion. 

"If  there  was  any  truth  in  this  story,"  answered 
her  father,  "\vho  cares  for  a  woman's  promises  in 
love  matters?  They  are  not  worth  the  breath  that 
made  them." 

"My  promise  to  Lord  Medway,  father,  rests  on 
my  honor.  I  could  give  him  no  security  but  my 
word.  I  must  keep  my  word." 

"A  woman's  honor !  A  woman's  word  to  a  lover ! 
Pshaw !  Let  us  hear  no  more  of  such  rant.  What 
do  you  think  of  this  extraordinary  story,  Eliza 
beth?" 

"I  think  it  is  a  dream,  a  fabrication.  Maria  has 
imagined  it.  Who  knows  Lord  Medway  ?  I  never 
heard  tell  of  such  a  person. 

"Nevertheless,  he  will  come  for  me  on  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  November,"  said  Maria. 

"Long  before  that  time  you  will  be  Mrs.  Richard 
Spencer,"  answered  her  father. 

"I  declare  to  you,  father,  I  will  not.  You  may 
carry  me  to  the  altar,  that  is  as  far  as  you  can  go; 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     297 

you  cannot  make  me  speak.  I  will  not  say  one  word 
that  makes  me  Richard  Spencer's  wife.  I  entreat 
you  not  to  force  such  a  trial  on  me.  It  will  make 
me  the  town's  talk,  you  also." 

"Do  not  dare  to  consider  me  as  a  part  of  such  a 
mad  scene.  Go  to  your  room  at  once,  before  I — 
before  I  make  you." 

She  fled  before  his  passion,  and  terrified  and 
breathless  locked  the  door  upon  her  sorrow.  But 
she  was  not  conquered.  In  fact,  her  resolution  had 
gained  an  invincible  strength  by  the  mere  fact  of  its 
utterance.  Words  had  given  it  substance,  form, 
even  life,  and  she  felt  that  now  she  would  give  her 
own  life  rather  than  relinquish  her  resolve. 

In  reality  her  confidence  did  her  case  no  good. 
Mr.  Semple  easily  adopted  the  opinion  of  his  wife 
that  Maria  had  invented  the  story  to  defer  what  she 
could  not  break  off.  "And  you  know,  Alexander," 
she  added,  "those  Gordons  will  be  back  before  the 
date  she  has  fixed  this  pretended  lover  to  appear,  and 
in  my  opinion  they  are  capable  of  encouraging  Maria 
to  all  lengths  against  your  lawful  authority.  As 
for  myself,  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Gordon  disliked  me  on 
sight,  I  know  I  disliked  her,  and  Maria  was  rebel 
lious  the  whole  time  they  were  in  London.  I  won 
der  Richard  does  not  break  off  the  wedding,  late  as 
it  is." 

"I  should  not  permit  him  to  do  so,  even  if  he  felt 
inclined.  But  he  is  as  resolute  as  myself.  Why, 
Elizabeth,  we  two  men  should  be  the  laughing-stock 
of  the  town  for  a  twelvemonth  if  we  allowed  a  chit 
of  a  girl  to  master  us.  It  is  unthinkable.  Go  on 
with  the  necessary  preparations.  The  Spencers  liv- 


298    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

ing  in  Durham  and  in  Kendal  must  be  notified  at 
once.  The  greater  the  company  present  the  more 
impossible  it  will  be  for  her  to  carry  out  her  absurd 
threat.  And  even  if  she  will  not  speak,  silence  gives 
consent.  I  shall  tell  the  clergyman  to  proceed." 

After  this  there  were  no  more  pretenses  of  any 
kind.  Maria's  reluctance  to  her  marriage  was  openly 
acknowledged  to  the  household,  and  her  disobedi 
ence  complained  of  and  regretted.  Among  the  two 
men-servants  and  three  maids  there  was  not  one  who 
sympathized  with  her.  The  men  were  married  and 
had  daughters,  from  whom  they  expected  implicit 
obedience.  The  women  wondered  what  the  young 
mistress  wanted :  "A  man  with  such  black  eyes  and 
nice,  curly  hair,"  said  the  cook,  "any  proper  girl 
would  like;  so  free  with  his  jokes  and  his  money, 
too;  six  foot  tall,  and  well  set  up  as  ever  I  saw  a 
man.  And  the  fine  house  he  is  giving  her,  and  the 
fine  things  of  all  kinds  he  sends  her!  Oh,  she's  a 
proud,  set-up  little  thing  as  ever  came  my  way!" 
These  remarks  and  many  more  of  the  same  kind 
from  the  powers  in  the  kitchen  indicated  the  senti 
ment  of  the  whole  house,  and  Maria  felt  the  spirit 
of  opposition  to  her,  though  it  was  not  expressed. 

She  could  only  endure  it  and  affect  not  to  notice 
what  was  beyond  her  power  to  prevent.  But  she 
wrote  to  her  Uncle  Neil  and  desired  him  to  see  Lord 
Medway  and  tell  him  exactly  how  she  was  situated. 
In  this  letter  she  declared  in  the  most  positive  man 
ner  her  resolve  not  to  marry  Mr.  Spencer,  and  de 
scribed  the  uneasiness  which  her  stepmother's 
remark  about  "restraint"  had  caused  her.  And  this 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     299 

letter,  with  one  to  Mrs.  Gordon,  were  the  only  out 
side  influences  she  had  any  power  to  reach. 

At  length  the  twenty-eighth  day  of  June  arrived. 
The  Spencer  house  was  filled  with  relatives  from  the 
Northern  and  Midland  countries,  and  in  Maria's 
home  the  wedding  feast  was  already  prepared.  A 
huge  wedding  cake  was  standing  on  the  sideboard, 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  her  wedding  dress 
came  home.  Mrs.  Semple  brought  it  herself  to 
Maria  and  spread  out  its  shimmering  widths  of 
heavy  white  satin  and  the  costly  lace  to  be  worn 
with  it. 

"It  is  sure  to  fit  you,  Maria,"  she  said.  "Madame 
Delamy  made  it  from  your  gray  cloth  dress,  which 
you  know  is  perfect  every  way.  Will  you  try  it  on  ? 
I  will  help  you." 

"No,  thank  you.  I  would  as  willingly  try  my 
shroud  on." 

"I  think  you  are  very  selfish  and  unkind.  You 
know  that  I  am  not  well ;  indeed,  I  feel  scarcely  able 
to  bear  the  fatigue  of  the  ceremony,  and  you  are 
turning  what  ought  to  be  a  pleasure  to  your  father 
and  every  one  else  into  a  fear  and  a  weariness." 

She  did  not  answer  her  stepmother,  but  in  the 
hurry  of  preparations  going  on  down  stairs  she 
sought  her  father  and  found  him  resting  in  the 
freshly  decorated  drawing-room.  He  was  sitting 
with  closed  eyes  and  evidently  trying  to  sleep.  She 
stood  a  little  way  from  him,  and  with  many  bitter 
tears  made  her  final  appeal.  "Say  I  am  ill,  father, 
for  indeed  I  am,  and  stop  this  useless  preparation.  It 
is  all  for  disappointment  and  sorrow." 

He  listened  without  denial  or  interruption  to  her 


300    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

words,  but  when  she  ceased  in  a  passion  of  weeping 
he  answered,  "There  is  no  turning  back  and  there 
is  no  delay,  Maria.  You  are  very  silly  to  cry  over 
the  inevitable,  especially  when  both  my  love  and 
wisdom  decide  that  the  inevitable  is  good  for  you. 
You  will  certainly  be  married  to  Richard  Spencer 
to-morrow  morning.  Prepare  yourself  for  ten 
o'clock.  I  shall  come  to  your  study  for  you  at  five 
minutes  before  ten.  At  nine  o'clock  Madame  Del- 
amy  will  send  two  women  to  arrange  your  dress. 
See  that  you  are  ready  in  time.  Good  night." 

There  was  nothing  now  to  be  done  in  the  way  of 
prevention,  and  a  dull,  sullen  anger  took  the  place  of 
entreaty  in  Maria's  mind.  "If  they  will  set  my  back 
to  the  wall,  they  shall  see  I  can  fight,"  she  thought, 
as  she  wretchedly  took  her  way  to  her  room.  The 
beauteous  gown  was  shining  on  her  bed,  and  she  pas 
sionately  tossed  it  aside  and  lay  down  and  fell  asleep. 
When  she  awoke  it  was  morning,  a  gusty,  rainy 
morning  with  glints  of  sunshine  between  the  show 
ers.  She  was  greatly  depressed,  and  not  a  little 
frightened.  What  she  had  to  do  she  determined 
to  do,  but  oh !  what  would  come  after  it  ?  Then  she 
was  shocked  to  find  that  the  scene  she  was  resolved 
to  enact,  though  gone  over  so  often  in  her  mind, 
slipped  away  from  her  consciousness  whenever  she 
tried  to  recall  or  arrange  it.  For  a  few  minutes  she 
was  in  a  mood  to  be  driven  against  her  will,  and  she 
fully  realized  this  condition.  "I  must  be  strong  and 
of  good  courage,"  she  whispered.  "I  must  cease 
thinking  and  planning.  I  must  leave  this  thing  to 
be  done  till  the  moment  comes  to  do  it.  I  am  only 
wasting  my  strength." 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     301 

Fortunately,  she  was  continually  interrupted. 
Coffee  was  sent  to  her  room.  Then  the  hairdresser 
arrived,  and  the  women  to  robe  her  for  the  cere 
mony.  She  was  quite  passive  in  their  hands,  and 
when  her  father  appeared,  ready  to  answer  his 
"Come,  Maria." 

The  parlors  were  crowded  with  the  Spencers  and 
their  friends,  and  congratulations  sounded  fitfully  in 
her  ears  as  carriage  after  carriage  rolled  away  to 
St.  Margaret's  Church.  Mr.  Semple  and  Maria 
were  in  the  last  coach,  and  his  wife  and  the  bride 
groom  in  the  one  immediately  before  them.  So  that 
when  they  arrived  at  the  church,  the  company  were 
already  grouped  around  the  communion  railing. 

Maria  felt  like  a  soul  in  a  bad  dream ;  she  was  just 
aware  when  she  left  the  carriage  that  it  was  raining 
heavily,  and  that  her  father  took  her  arm  and 
sharply  bid  her  to  "lift  her  wedding  dress  from  the 
plashy  pavement."  She  made  a  motion  with  her 
hand,  but  failed  to  grasp  it,  and  then  she  was  walk 
ing  up  the  gloomy  aisle,  she  was  at  the  rail,  the 
clergyman  was  standing  before  her,  the  bridegroom 
at  her  side,  the  company  all  about  her.  There  was 
prayer,  and  she  felt  the  pressure  of  her  father's  hand 
force  her  to  her  knees ;  and  then  there  was  a  constant 
murmur  of  voices,  and  a  spell  like  that  which  held 
her  during  her  last  interview  with  Lord  Medway 
was  upon  her.  But  suddenly  she  remembered  this 
fateful  apathy,  and  the  memory  was  like  movement 
in  a  nightmare.  The  instant  she  recognized  it  the 
influence  was  broken  and  she  was  almost  painfully 
conscious  of  Richard  Spencer's  affirmative: 

"I  will." 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 


She  knew  then  what  was  coming  and  what  she 
had  to  do,  and  those  who  watched  her  saw  the  girl 
lift  herself  erect  and  listen  to  the  priest  asking  those 
solemnly  momentous  questions  wrhich  were  to  bind 
her  forever  to  obey  Richard  Spencer,  to  love  and 
honor  him,  and  in  sickness  and  health,  forsaking  all 
others,  keep  unto  him  as  long  as  she  lived.  She  had 
but  to  say  two  words  and  her  promise  would  be 
broken,  her  lover  lost  and  her  life  made  wretched  be 
yond  hope. 

"But  I  will  never  say  them!"  and  this  passionate 
assurance  to  her  soul  gave  her  all  the  strength  she 
needed.  When  the  clergyman  stopped  speaking  she 
looked  straight  into  his  face  and  in  a  voice  low,  but 
perfectly  distinct,  answered: 

"I  will  not." 

There  was  a  moment's  startled  pause.  Her 
father's  voice  broke  it  : 

"Go  on,  sir." 

But  before  this  was  possible  Maria  continued  : 

"I  am  the  promised  wife  of  another  man.  I  do 
not  love  this  man.  I  will  not  marry  him." 

Her  eyes,  full  of  pitiful  entreaty,  held  the  clergy 
man's  eyes.  He  looked  steadily  at  the  company  and 
said,  "God's  law  and  the  laws  of  this  realm  forbid 
this  marriage  until  such  time  as  the  truth  of  this  alle 
gation  be  tried."  And  with  these  words  he  walked 
to  the  altar,  laid  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  upon 
it,  and  then  disappeared  in  the  vesty. 

Before  he  did  so,  however,  there  was  a  shrill, 
sharp  cry  of  mortal  pain,  and  Mrs.  Semple  was 
barely  saved  by  her  husband's  promptitude  from 
falling  prone  on  the  marble  aisle  before  the  chancel. 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     303 

Immediately  all  was  confusion.  The  sick  woman 
was  carried  insensible  to  her  coach.  Mr.  Spencer 
took  his  sobbing  sister  on  his  arm,  and  the  guests 
broke  up  into  couples.  With  hurrying  feet,  amazed, 
ashamed,  all  talking  together,  they  sought  the  vehi 
cles  that  were  to  carry  them  away  from  a  scene  so 
painful  and  so  unexpected.  Maria  sat  down  in  the 
nearest  pew  and  waited  to  see  what  would  happen. 
She  heard  carriage  after  carriage  roll  away,  and 
then  realized  that  every  one  had  deserted  her. 

In  about  twenty  minutes  the  sexton  began  to  close 
the  church,  and  she  asked  him,  "Has  nobody  waited 
for  me?" 

"No,  miss,  you  be  here  alone."  Then  she  took  a 
ring  from  her  finger  and  offered  it  to  him :  "Get  me 
a  closed  carriage  and  I  will  give  you  this  ring,"  she 
said,  but  he  answered : 

"Nay,  I  want  no  ring  from  a  little  lass  in  trouble. 
I'll  get  the  carriage,  and  you  may  drop  into  the 
church  some  better  day  to  pay  me." 

She  went  back  home  in  the  midst  of  a  thunder 
storm.  The  day  was  darkened,  the  rain  driven  furi 
ously  by  the  wind,  and  yet  when  she  reached  her 
father's  house  the  front  entrance  stood  open  and 
there  was  neither  men  nor  women  servants  in  sight. 
She  ran  swiftly  to  her  room,  locked  the  door  and 
sank  into  a  chair,  spent  with  fear  and  sick  with  ap 
prehension.  What  had  happened?  What  would 
be  done  to  her?  "Oh,  to  be  back  in  New  York!" 
she  cried.  "Nobody  there  would  force  a  poor  girl 
into  misery  and  make  a  prayer  over  it,  and  a  feast 
about  it." 

A   sudden   movement  of   her  head   showed  her 


304    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

Maria  Semple  in  her  wedding  dress.  She  turned 
herself  quickly  from  the  glass,  and  with  frantic 
haste  unfastened  the  gown  and  hung  it  up.  All  the 
trinkets  in  which  they  had  dressed  her  were  as 
quickly  removed,  and  she  was  not  satisfied  until  she 
had  cast  off  every  symbol  of  the  miserably  frustrated 
marriage.  But  as  hour  after  hour  passed  and  no 
one  came  near  her  she  became  sick  with  terror,  and 
she  was  also  faint  with  hunger  and  thirst.  Some 
thing  must  be  ventured,  some  one  must  be  seen ;  she 
felt  that  she  would  lose  consciousness  if  she  was  left 
alone  much  longer. 

After  repeatedly  ringing  her  bell,  it  was  answered 
by  one  of  the  women.  "I  want  some  tea,  Mary,  and 
some  meat  and  bread.  What  is  the  matter  with 
every  one?" 

"The  doctors  do  say  as  Mrs.  Semple  is  dying,  and 
the  master  is  like  a  man  out  of  his  mind."  The 
woman  spoke  with  an  air  of  distinct  displeasure,  if 
not  dislike,  but  she  brought  the  food  and  tea  to 
Maria,  and  without  further  speech  left  her  to  con 
sider  what  she  had  been  told. 

Oh,  how  long  were  the  gloomy  hours  of  the  day ! 
How  much  longer  those  of  the  terrible  night !  The 
very  atmosphere  was  full  of  pain  and  fear;  lights 
were  passing  up  and  down,  and  footsteps  and  inar 
ticulate  movements,  all  indicating  the  great  struggle 
between  life  and  death.  And  Maria  lay  dressed 
upon  her  bed,  sleepless,  listening  and  watching,  and 
seeing  always  in  the  dim  rushlight  that  white  shim 
mering  gown  splashed  with  rain,  and  hanging 
limply  by  one  sleeve.  It  grew  frightful  to  her, 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MARRIAGE     305 

threatening,  uncanny,  and  she  finally  tore  it  angrily 
down  and  flung  it  into  a  closet. 

But  the  weariest  suspense  comes  to  some  end 
finally,  and  just  as  dawn  broke  there  was  a  sudden 
change.  The  terror  and  the  suffering  were  over; 
peace  stole  through  every  room  in  the  house,  for  a 
man  child  was  born  to  the  house  of  Semple. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LOVE  AND  VICTORY. 

THIS  event  was  in  many  ways  favorable  to  Maria. 
She  was  put  aside,  nearly  forgotten  for  a  month,  in 
the  more  imminent  danger  to  the  household.  And 
by  that  time  the  almost  brutal  passion  which  in  the 
first  hours  of  shame  and  distress  could  think  of  no 
equivalent  but  personal  punishment,  had  become 
more  reasonable.  For  men  and  women,  if  worthy 
of  that  name,  do  not  tarry  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death  without  learning  much  they  would 
learn  nowhere  else. 

Still  her  position  was  painful  enough.  Her  father 
did  not  speak  unless  it  was  necessary  to  ask  her  a 
question,  her  stepmother  for  nearly  eight  weeks 
remained  in  her  room,  and  the  once  obsequious 
servants  hardly  troubled  themselves  to  attend  to  her 
wants  or  obey  her  requests.  In  the  cold  isolation 
of  her  disgrace  she  often  longed  for  a  more  active 
displeasure.  If  only  the  anger  against  her  would 
come  to  words  she  could  plead  for  herself,  or  at  least 
she  could  ask  to  be  forgiven. 

But  Mr.  Semple,  though  ordinarily  a  passionate 
and  hot-spoken  man,  was  afraid  to  say  or  do  any 
thing  which  would  disturb  the  peace  necessary  for 
his  wife's  restoration  and  his  son's  health.  He  felt 
that  it  was  better  for  Maria  to  suffer.  She  deserved 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY 


3°7 


punishment;  they  were  innocent.  Yet,  being  nat 
urally  a  just  man,  he  had  allowed  her  such  excuse 
as  reflection  brought.  He  had  told  himself  that  the 
girl  had  never  had  a  mother's  care  and  guidance; 
that  he  himself  had  been  too  busy  making  money  to 
instill  into  her  mind  the  great  duty  of  obedience  to 
his  commands.  He  had  considered  also  that  the 
very  atmosphere  in  which  she  had  lived  and  moved 
nearly  all  the  years  of  her  life  had  been  charged  with 
assertion  and  rebellion.  It  was  the  attitude  of  every 
one  around  her  to  resist  authority,  even  the  au 
thority  of  kings  and  governors.  If  she  had  been 
brought  up  in  the  submissive,  self -effacing  manner 
proper  to  English  girls  her  offense  would  have  been 
unnatural  and  unpardonable;  but  he  remembered 
with  a  sigh  that  American  women,  as  a  rule,  arro 
gated  to  themselves  power  and  individuality,  which 
American  men,  as  a  rule,  did  not  ask  them  to  surren 
der.  These  things  he  accepted  as  some  palliation  of 
Maria's  abnormal  misconduct;  and  also  he  was  not 
oblivious  to  the  fact  that  her  grandparents  had  for 
a  year  given  her  great  freedom,  and  that  he,  for  his 
own  convenience,  had  placed  her  with  her  grand 
parents.  Besides  which,  anger  in  a  good  heart  burns 
itself  out. 

Very  slowly,  but  yet  surely,  this  process  was  go 
ing  on,  and  Maria's  attitude  was  favorable  to  it,  for 
she  was  heart-sorry  for  the  circumstances  that  had 
compelled  her  to  assert  the  right  of  her  womanhood, 
and  her  pathetic  self-effacement  was  sincere  and 
without  reproach.  By-the-by  the  babe  came  in  as 
peacemaker.  As  soon  as  she  was  permitted  to  see 
her  stepmother  she  bent  all  the  sweet  magnetism  of 


308     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

her  nature  to  winning,  at  least,  her  forgiveness. 
She  carried  the  fretful  child  in  her  arms  and  softly 
sung  him  to  sleep,  she  praised  his  beauty,  she  learned 
to  love  him,  and  she  made  the  lonely  hours  when  Mr. 
Semple  was  at  the  office  pass  pleasantly  to  the  sick 
woman.  Finally  one  day  they  came  to  tears  and 
explanations;  the  dreadful  affair  was  talked  out, 
Maria  entreated  forgiveness,  and  was  not  ungen 
erously  pardoned. 

This  was  at  the  close  of  August,  and  a  few  days 
afterward  she  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Gordon. 
"We  are  in  London  for  the  winter,"  she  wrote. 
"Come,  child,  and  let  me  see  how  you  look."  Rather 
reluctantly  Mrs.  Semple  permitted  her  to  make  the 
visit.  "She  is  the  next  thing  to  an  American,"  she 
thought,  "and  she  will  make  Maria  unreasonable  and 
disobedient  again."  But  she  need  not  so  have 
feared;  the  primal  obligations  of  humanity  are 
planted  in  childhood,  and  when  we  are  old  we  are 
apt  to  refer  to  them  and  judge  accordingly. 

Mrs.  Gordon's  first  remark  was  not  flattering,  for 
as  Maria  entered  her  room  she  cried  out,  "La,  child ! 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  look  ill,  worried, 
older  than  you  ought  to  look.  Are  you  in  trouble?" 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Stepmother?" 

"Father." 

"Ah!  Stepmothers  make  stepfathers,  every  one 
knows  that.  We  shall  have  a  dish  of  tea  and  you 
shall  tell  me  about  it.  Then  I  will  help  you.  But 
one  can't  build  without  stone.  What  has  the  step 
father  done?" 

Then  Maria  told  her  friend  all  her  trouble,  and 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  309 

was  rather  chilled  in  the  telling  by  certain  signs  of 
qualified  sympathy.  And  when  the  story  was  fin 
ished  Mrs.  Gordon's  first  remark  was  yet  more  dis 
heartening  : 

"  Tis  a  common  calamity,"  she  said,  "and  better 
people  than  you  have  endured  it." 

"But,  Madame— 

"Yes,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  But 
you  must  consider  first  that  your  father  was  acting 
quite  within  his  authority.  He  had  the  right  to 
choose  your  husband." 

"I  had  already  chosen  my  husband." 

"Then  you  ought,  when  you  first  came  home,  to 
have  notified  your  parents.  Sure,  you  had  so  much 
responsibility  to  fulfill.  Why  did  you  not  do  your 
duty  in  this  matter?" 

"I  think  I  was  afraid." 

"To  be  sure  you  were.  Little  coward!  Pray 
what  did  you  fear?  Ernest  Meclway?" 

"Yes.  I  thought,  perhaps — as  I  told  you,  we 
parted  in  anger,  and  I  thought  perhaps  he  might  not 
keep  his  word,  there  were  so  many  reasons  why 
he  might  like  to  break  it,  and  also,  in  war-time  life 
is  uncertain.  He  has  been  wounded,  sick ;  he  might 
have  died." 

"So  might  you,  or  I,  for  that  matter.  A  pretty 
account  you  give  of  yourself.  Lord,  child!  you 
surely  had  letters  to  show  your  father. 

"I  had  a  few,  but  they  were  only  a  line  or  two.  I 
was  sure  they  would  be  made  fun  of,  and  I  was 
angry,  too.  I  thought  if  they  would  not  take  my 
word,  I  would  not  give  vouchers  for  it.  Not  I !" 

"Don't  dash  at  things  in  that  way,  child.      Your 


3io    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

father  was  not  bound  to  believe  your  story,  especially 
as  you  did  not  tell  it  until  he  had  made  all  arrange 
ments  for  your  marriage  with  this  Mr.  Spencer. 
Your  conduct  was  too  zigzaggery;  you  should  have 
been  straight. 

"Father  ought  to  have  believed  me." 

"We  have  it  on  good  authority  that  all  men  are 
liars,  and  I  daresay  that  your  father  has  known  bet 
ter  people  than  either  you  or  I  to  tell  lies.  Really, 
I  ought  to  give  you  a  scolding,  and  this  is  nothing 
like  it." 

"It  was  such  an  outrage  to  force  me  to  the  very 
altar.  The  consequences  were  at  my  father's  door." 

"Custom,  use  and  wont,  take  the  outrage  out  of 
many  things.  Good  gracious,  Maria,  most  of  the 
women  I  know  were  in  some  way  or  other  forced  to 
the  altar;  good  for  them,  too,  and  generally  they 
found  that  out.  My  own  cousin,  Lady  Clarisse 
Home,  went  weeping  there;  Miss  Anne  Gordon,  a 
cousin  of  my  husband,  refused  to  get  up,  said  she 
was  ill,  and  her  friends  had  the  marriage  at  her  bed 
side.  Tis  above  or  below  reason,  but  these  same 
women  adored  their  husbands  within  a  week's  time." 

"Oh,  dear!  what  shall  I  say?    What  shall  I  do?" 

"Poor  little  Maria!  You  come  to  England,  and 
then  are  astonished  that  a  girl  of  eighteen  is  not 
allowed  to  have  her  own  way,  even  in  a  husband." 

"I  have  heard  that  you  took  your  own  way  in 
England,  Madame." 

"In  Scotland,  there  was  some  difference,  and  I 
was  twenty-three  and  had  a  fortune  of  my  own." 

"Tell  me  then,  Madame,  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"I  think  you  ought  to  go  back  to  New  York.  You 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  311 

are  unhappy  here,  and  you  must  make  your  father's 
home  unhappy.  That  is  not  fair.  If  you  are  in 
New  York,  Ernest  Medway  will  have  no  difficulty 
in  keeping  his  word — if  he  wishes  to  do  so.  If  he 
does  not  keep  his  word,  you  will  escape  the  mortifi 
cation  you  would  certainly  feel  in  your  father's 
house.  Ask  the  stepmother  for  permission  to  go 
back;  she  will  manage  the  rest." 

"Had  I  not  better  wait  till  the  twenty-ninth  of 
November  has  come  and  gone?" 

"If  you  are  a  fool,  do  so.  If  you  are  wise,  do 
not  give  opportunity  so  much  scope.  Go  at  once." 

This  advice  was  carried  out  with  all  the  speed 
possible.  That  very  night  Maria  found  a  good  time 
to  ask  her  stepmother's  influence,  and  in  spite  of 
some  affected  reluctances,  she  understood  that  her 
proposal  was  one  that  gave  great  and  unexpected  sat 
isfaction.  She  felt  almost  that  she  might  begin  to 
prepare  for  the  voyage ;  nor  were  her  premonitions 
false.  On  the  third  evening  after  the  request  her 
father  came  to  her  room  to  grant  it.  He  said  he 
was  "sorry  she  wished  to  leave  him,  but  that  under 
the  circumstances  it  was  better  that  she  left  Eng 
land,  at  least  for  a  year.  The  war  is  practically 
over,"  he  continued,  "and  New  York  will  speedily 
recover  herself."  Then  he  entered  into  some  finan 
cial  explanations  of  a  very  generous  character,  and 
finally,  taking  a  small  package  from  his  pocket,  said : 
"Give  this  to  your  grandfather.  It  is  a  miniature 
of  his  grandson,  Alexander  Semple  the  third.  He 
will  be  much  delighted  to  see  that  child,  for  he  has 
no  other  grandson.  My  brothers'  children  are  only 
girls." 


3i2    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"Only  girls!"  The  two  words  cut  like  a  two- 
edged  blade,  but  they  were  not  said  with  any  unkind 
intent,  though  he  felt  the  unkind  impression  they 
made,  and  rose  and  went  slowly  toward  the  door. 
His  manner  was  hesitating,  as  if  he  had  forgotten 
something  he  wished  to  say,  and  the  momentary  de 
lay  gave  to  Maria  a  good  thought.  She  followed 
him  quickly,  and  while  his  hand  was  on  the  door  laid 
hers  upon  it.  "Father,"  she  said,  "stay  a  little 
while.  I  want  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  I  have 
so  often  been  troublesome  and  self-willed,  I  have 
given  you  so  much  annoyance,  I  feel  it  now.  I 
am  sorry  for  it.  I  cannot  go  back  to  America 
until  you  forgive  me.  Father,  will  you  forgive  me  ? 
Indeed,  I  am  sorry." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  looked  into  her  white, 
upturned  face,  and  then  answered,  "I  forgive  you, 
Maria.  You  have  caused  me  great  shame  and  dis 
appointment,  but  I  forgive  you." 

"Not  in  that  way!  Oh,  not  in  that  way,  father! 
Kiss  me  as  you  used  to  do.  You  have  not  kissed 
me  for  nearly  a  year.  Dear  father,  do  not  be  so  cold 
and  so  far-off.  I  am  only  a  little  girl,  but  I  am 
your  little  girl.  Perhaps  I  do  not  deserve  to  be 
forgiven,  but  for  my  mother's  sake  be  kind  to  me." 

At  these  words  he  turned  fully  to  her,  took  her 
hands,  and  in  a  low,  constrained  voice  said,  "You 
are  a  very  dear  little  girl,  and  we  will  let  all  the 
trouble  between  us  be  as  if  it  had  never  been.  We 
will  bury  it,  forgive  it,  and  forget  it  evermore.  It 
is  not  to  be  spoken  of  again,  not  as  long  as  we  live." 

Then  she  leaned  her  head  against  his  breast  and 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  313 

he  kissed  her  as  those  who  love  and  forgive  kiss,  and 
the  joy  of  reconciliation  was  between  them. 

"Good  night,  Maria;"  and  as  he  held  her  close 
within  his  arm  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "What  a  little 
bit  of  a  woman!  How  high  are  you?  Maria?" 

"Just  as  high  as  your  heart,  father.  I  don't  want 
to  be  any  higher." 

"That  is  a  very  pretty  speech,"  and  this  time  he 
kissed  her  voluntarily,  and  with  a  most  tender  affec 
tion. 

Five  days  after  this  interview  Maria  sailed  for 
America.  Her  father  had  carefully  attended  to  all 
things  necessary  for  her  safety  and  comfort,  and  her 
stepmother  had  tried  to  atone  by  profuse  and  hand 
some  gifts  for  the  apparent  unkindness  which  had 
hastened  her  departure.  But  Maria  knew  herself 
much  to  blame,  and  she  was  too  happy  to  bear  ill 
will.  She  was  going  to  see  her  lover.  She  was 
going  to  give  him  the  assurances  which  she  had  so 
long  withheld.  She  was  now  impatient  to  give  voice 
to  all  the  tenderness  in  her  heart. 

It  was  the  nineteenth  day  of  September  when  she 
sailed,  and  on  the  following  day,  as  Mr.  Semple  was 
sitting  in  his  office,  one  of  the  messengers  brought 
him  a  card.  The  light  was  dim  and  he  looked  in 
tently  at  it,  appeared  startled,  rose  and  took  it  to 
the  window  for  further  inspection.  "Lord  Med- 
way"  was  certainly  the  name  it  bore,  and  ere  he 
could  give  any  order  concerning  it  the  door  opened 
and  Lord  Medway  entered. 

Mr.  Semple  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  the  noble 
man  took  the  chair  he  offered.  "Sir,"  he  said, 


3H    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

hardly  waiting  for  the  preliminary  courtesies,  "Sir, 
I  cannot  believe  myself  quite  unknown  to  you.  And 
I  hope  that  you  have  already  some  anticipation  of 
the  purport  of  my  visit.  I  come  to  ask  the  hand 
of  your  daughter  Maria  in  marriage.  I  have  been 
her  devoted  lover  for  more  than  three  years,  and 
now  I  would  make  her  my  wife.  I  beg  you,  sir,  to 
examine  these  papers.  They  will  give  you  a  gener 
ally  correct  idea  of  my  wealth  and  of  the  settlement 
I  propose  to  make  in  favor  of  my  wife." 

Mr.  Semple  looked  at  the  eager  young  man  with 
a  face  so  troubled  that  he  was  instantly  alarmed. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried.  "Is  Maria  sick?  Mar 
ried?  Sir,  do  not  keep  me  in  suspense." 

"Maria  must  be  very  near  to  New  York.  She 
sailed  three  weeks  ago." 

"Oh,  how  unfortunate  I  am !  I  am  indeed  dis 
tracted  at  this  disappointment." 

"Will  you  come  with  me  to  my  home?  Mrs. 
Semple  will  tell  you  all  that  you  desire  to  know  about 
Maria." 

"I  am  obliged  for  your  kindness,  sir,  but  there  is 
only  one  thing  for  me  to  do.  I  must  go  back  to  New 
York  by  the  first  opportunity.  I  have  your  permis 
sion,  I  trust." 

"I  have  nothing  to  oppose  to  your  wishes,  Lord 
Medway.  Maria  has  been  faithful  to  your  memory, 
and  I  have  every  reason  to  know  that  you  are  dear 
to  her.  I  wish  you  both  to  be  happy." 

"Then,  sir,  farewell  for  the  present.  If  Fate  be 
not  most  unkind  to  me,  I  will  return  with  Lady  Med 
way  before  the  year  be  fully  out." 

He  seemed  to  gather  hope  from  his  own  prophecy, 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY 


and  with  the  charming  manner  he  knew  well  how 
to  assume  he  left  Mr.  Semple  penetrated  with  his 
importance  and  dignity,  and  exceedingly  exalted  in 
the  prospect  of  his  daughter's  great  fortune. 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  Maria  would  accept  no 
lover  in  his  place,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Semple.  "I 
think,  Elizabeth,  he  is  the  handsomest  man  I  ever 
saw.  And  I  glanced  at  the  total  of  his  rent-roll ;  it 
is  close  on  forty  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and  likely 
to  increase  as  his  mining  property  is  opened  up. 
Maria  has  done  very  well  for  herself." 

'Then  we  have  good  authority  for  saying  all  men 
will  praise  her.  Nevertheless,  Cousin  Richard  was 
a  handsome  man  and  an  excellent  match,"  said  Mrs. 
Semple.  "You  had  better  tell  Richard.  It  will 
close  that  affair  forever." 

She  was  vexed,  but  not  insensible  to  the  social 
glory  of  the  match.  And  there  was  also  the  pre 
cious  boy  in  the  cradle.  A  relative  among  the  no 
bility  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him;  and,  indeed, 
the  subject  opened  up  on  all  sides  in  a  manner  flat 
tering  both  to  the  pride  and  the  interest  of  the  Sem- 
ples. 

They  could  not  cease  talking  of  it  until  sleep  put 
an  end  to  their  hopes  and  speculations.  And  in  the 
morning  they  were  so  readily  excited  that  Mrs.  Sem 
ple  felt  impelled  to  make  a  confidante  of  her  nursery 
maid ;  and  Mr.  Semple,  being  under  the  same  neces 
sity  of  conversation,  was  pleased  to  remember  that 
his  wife  had  advised  him  to  inform  Richard  Spen 
cer.  He  told  himself  that  she  was  right,  and  that 
Richard  ought  to  know  the  reason  of  his  rejection. 
It  would  only  be  proper  kindness  to  let  him  under- 


316    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

stand  that  Maria's  reluctance  was  not  a  dislike  for 
him  personally,  but  was  consequent  upon  her  love 
for  one  who  had  won  her  heart  previous  to  their 
acquaintance.  That  fact  altered  Richard's  position 
and  made  it  much  less  humiliating. 

So  he  went  to  the  offices  of  the  Spencer  Company, 
and  after  some  tedious  talk  on  the  Zante  currant 
question,  he  told  the  rejected  man  of  Lord  Medway's 
visit,  described  his  appearance,  and  revealed,  under 
a  promise  of  secrecy,  the  amount  of  his  rent-roll  and 
the  settlement  proposed  for  his  wife. 

The  effect  of  this  story  was  precisely  in  the  line 
of  what  Mr.  Semple  had  supposed.  The  weakness 
of  Richard  Spencer's  nature  was  a  slavish  adoration 
of  the  nobility.  To  have  had  Lord  Medway  for  a 
rival  was  an  honor  to  be  fully  appreciated;  and  to 
the  end  of  his  life  it  supplied  him,  in  all  his  hours  of 
after-dinner  confidences,  with  a  sentimental  story  he 
delighted  to  tell.  "Yes,  gentlemen,"  he  would  say, 
even  when  an  old  man,  "Yes,  gentlemen,  I  was  once 
in  love,  madly  in  love,  with  as  beautiful  a  creature 
as  ever  trod  this  earth.  And  she  led  me  a  pretty 
dance  right  to  the  altar  steps,  and  then  deserted  me. 
But  I  cannot  blame  her.  No,  by  St.  George,  I  can 
not!  I  had  a  rival,  gentlemen,  the  young,  hand 
some,  rich  and  powerful  Lord  Medway,  a  nobleman 
that  sits  in  the  house  of  Lords  and  may  be  of  the 
Privy  Council.  What  hope  for  poor  Dick  Spencer 
against  such  a  rival?  None  at  all,  gentlemen,  and 
so  you  see,  for  Lord  Medway's  sake  I  am  a  bachelor, 
and  always  shall  be  one.  No  girl  for  me,  after  the 
divine  Maria  was  lost.  I  saw  her  going  to  the  last 
drawing-room  and  she  smiled  at  me.  I  live  for  such 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  317 

little  favors,  and  I  have  reason  to  know  my  great 
rival  does  not  grudge  them  to  me." 

And  in  this  way  Richard  Spencer  consoled  him 
self,  and  was  perhaps  more  reasonably  happy  than  if 
he  had  married  a  reluctant  woman  and  been  grieved 
all  the  years  of  his  life  by  her  contradictions. 

The  unexpected  return  of  Maria  to  her  grand 
parents  quite  overthrew  Lord  Medway's  plans  for  a 
few  hours.  He  had  hoped  to  marry  her  in  London, 
and  take  her  at  once  to  his  town  house,  which  was 
even  then  being  prepared  and  adorned  for  her.  And 
affairs  in  New  York  were  in  such  a  state  of  chaos 
that  he  was  even  anxious  for  her  personal  safety. 
He  had  left  everything  and  every  one  in  a  state  of 
miserable  transition  and  uncertainty,  and  he  was  sure 
things  were  growing  worse  and  would  continue  to  do 
so  until  the  departure  of  the  hostile  army  and  the  re 
turn  of  the  patriotic  citizens.  For  it  was  they,  and 
they  only,  who  had  any  interest  in  the  preservation 
of  their  beautiful  city  from  plunder  and  destruction. 

And  as  he  thought  on  these  things,  he  reflected 
that  it  would  be  an  impossibility  to  secure  for  Maria 
and  himself  any  comfortable  passage  home,  in  the 
ordinary  shipping,  or  even  in  the  ships  of  war.  He 
was  sure  every  available  inch  of  room  would  be  filled 
with  royalist  refugees,  and  he  knew  well  the  likely 
results  of  men  and  women  and  children  crowded  to 
gether,  without  sufficient  food  and  water,  and  ex 
posed  to  the  winter's  cold  and  storm  without  any 
preparation  for  it. 

"It  will  not  do,  it  will  not  do!"  he  ejaculated, 
"whatever  it  costs,  I  must  charter  a  vessel  for  our 
own  use." 


3i8    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

In  pursuance  of  this  decision,  he  was  in  the  largest 
shipping-house  very  early  the  next  morning,  and 
with  its  aid,  speedily  secured  a  swift  sailing  clipper. 
Her  long,  sharp  bow  and  raking  masts,  pleased  his 
nautical  sense;  she  was  staunchly  built,  fit  to  buffet 
wind  and  waves,  and  had  a  well-seasoned  captain, 
who  feared  nothing,  and  was  pleased  at  the  terms 
Lord  Medway  offered  him. 

Nearly  two  weeks  were  spent  in  victualing  and  fit 
ting  her  for  the  dainty  lady  she  was  to  carry.  The 
softest  pillows  and  rugs  and  carpets,  made  her  small 
space  luxuriously  sufficient.  Silver  and  china  and 
fine  linen  were  provided  for  her  table,  and  when  all 
her  lockers  had  been  filled  and  all  her  sailing  wants 
provided  for,  Lord  Medway  brought  on  board  a 
good  cook,  a  maid  for  Maria,  and  a  valet  for  him 
self.  Then  he  set  sail  joyously;  surely,  at  last,  he 
was  on  the  right  road  to  his  bridal. 

Overtaking  Maria  was  of  course  beyond  a  possi 
bility,  but  he  desired  to  reach  New  York  before  its 
evacuation.  He  had  many  reasons  for  this,  but  the 
chief  one  was  a  fear  that  unless  he  did  so,  there  might 
be  no  clergyman  in  New  York  to  perform  the  mar 
riage  ceremony.  Lovers  have  a  thousand  anxieties, 
and  if  they  do  not  have  them,  make  them;  and  as 
the  "Dolphin"  flew  before  the  wind,  Medway  walked 
her  deck,  wondering  if  Maria  had  arrived  safely  in 
New  York,  if  her  ship  had  been  delayed,  if  it  had 
been  taken  by  a  privateer,  if  there  had  been  any  ship 
wreck,  or  even  great  storms ;  if  by  any  cruel  chance 
he  should  reach  New  York,  and  not  find  Maria  there. 
How  could  he  endure  the  consequent  disappoint 
ment  and  anxiety?  He  trembled,  he  turned  heart- 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  319 

sick,  at  any  such  possibility,  and  when  the  green 
shores  of  the  new  world  appeared,  he  almost  wished 
for  a  little  longer  suspense ;  he  thought  a  certainty  of 
.Maria's  absence  would  kill  him. 

As  they  came  nearer  to  the  city  it  was  found  im 
possible  to  approach  any  of  the  usual  wharfs.  The 
river  was  crowded  with  men-of-war,  transports,  and 
vessels  of  every  kind,  and  after  some  consideration 
they  took  to  the  North  River,  and  finally  anchored  in 
midstream,  nearly  opposite  the  house  of  Madame 
Jacobus. 

The  sight  of  her  residence  inspired  him  with  some 
thing  like  hope,  and  he  caused  the  small  boat  by 
which  he  landed  to  put  him  on  shore  as  far  north  of 
the  heart  of  the  city  as  possible.  But  even  so,  he 
could  distinctly  hear,  and  still  more  distinctly  feel  the 
sorrowful  tumult  of  the  chaotic,  almost  frantic  town. 
With  swift  steps  and  beating  heart  he  reached  the 
Semple  house.  He  stood  still  a  moment  and  looked 
at  it.  In  the  morning  sunshine  it  had  its  usual, 
peaceful,  orderly  aspect,  and  as  he  reached  the  gate, 
he  saw  the  Elder  open  the  door,  and,  oh,  sight  of 
heaven !  Maria  stepped  into  the  garden  with  him. 

What  happened  then?  Let  each  heart  tell  itself. 
We  have  many  words  to  express  grief,  none  that 
translate  the  transports  of  love  that  has  conquered  all 
the  accidents  of  a  contrary  fortune.  Such  joy  speaks 
like  a  child,  two  or  three  words  at  a  time,  uMy  Dar 
ling — Oh,  Beloved — Sweetest  Maria — Ernest — Er 
nest—At  last— At  last !" 

But  gradually  they  came  back  to  the  sense  of  those 
proprieties  that  very  wisely  invade  the  selfishness  of 
human  beings.  They  remembered  there  were  others 


320    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

in  the  world  besides  themselves,  and  broke  their  bliss 
in  two,  that  they  might  share  it.  And  as  conversa 
tion  became  more  general  Medway  perceived  that 
haste  was  an  imperative  necessity,  and  that  even 
haste  might  be  too  late.  It  was  now  exceedingly 
doubtful  if  a  clergyman  could  be  procured.  Trinity 
had  no  authorized  rector,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Inglis 
having  resigned  the  charge  on  the  first  of  November, 
just  three  weeks  previously,  and  the  appointment  of 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Moore,  selected  by  the  corporation 
of  Trinity,  not  being  yet  approved  by  the  Governor 
of  the  State  of  New  York.  To  an  Englishman  of 
that  day,  there  was  no  marriage  legally  performed 
but  by  an  accredited  Episcopal  minister,  and  this  was 
the  obstacle  Lord  Medway  had  now  to  face. 

If  General  Clinton  had  been  still  in  New  York,  the 
chaplain  attached  to  his  staff  would  have  been  easily 
available;  but  Lord  Medway  knew  little  of  Sir  Guy 
Carleton,  then  in  command,  and  could  only  suppose 
his  staff  would  be  similarly  provided.  As  this  diffi 
culty  demanded  instant  attention,  Medway  went  im 
mediately  about  it.  He  was  but  barely  in  time.  Sir 
Guy  thought  the  chaplain  had  already  embarked,  but 
fortunately,  he  was  found  in  his  rooms,  in  the  midst 
of  his  packing,  and  the  offer  of  a  large  fee  made  a 
short  delay  possible  to  him.  It  was  then  the  twen 
tieth  of  November,  and  the  evacuation  of  the  British 
troops  and  refugees  was  to  be  completed  on  the 
twenty-fifth.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  for  an 
almost  insane  terror  pervaded  the  minds  of  the  royal 
ists,  and  Medway  hastened  back  to  Maria  to  ex 
pedite  her  preparations. 

"Only  one  day,  my  dear  one,"  he  said,  "can  be 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  321 


allowed  you.  You  must  pack  immediately.  If  your 
trunks  can  be  sent  to  Madame  Jacobus  to-night,  I 
will  have  the  captain  of  the  'Dolphin'  get  them  on 
board  as  early  as  possible  to-morrow.  During  to 
day  you  must  make  all  your  arrangements.  The 
clergyman  will  be  waiting  for  us  in  St.  Paul's  Chapel 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Will  your  grand 
parents  go  with  us  to  the  church  ?" 

"I  think  not,  Ernest.  They  would  rather  bid  me 
good-bye  in  their  own  home,  and  it  will  be  better  so. 
Uncle  Neil  has  begged  grandfather  not  to  go  into 
the  city;  he  says  it  would  be  both  dangerous  and 
heart-breaking  to  him — yet  we  will  ask  them." 

It  was  as  Maria  had  supposed;  the  Elder  and 
Madame  preferred  to  part  with  their  little  girl  in 
private.  With  smiles  and  tears  and  blessings,  they 
gave  her  into  Lord  Medway's  care  and  then  sat  down 
on  their  lonely  hearth  to  rejoice  in  her  joy  and  good 
fortune.  They  did  not,  however,  talk  much ;  a  few 
words  now  and  then,  and  long  pauses  between,  in 
which  they  wandered  back  to  their  own  bridal,  and 
the  happy,  busy  days  that  were  gone  forever. 

"It  will  be  Neil  next,"  said  the  Elder  sadly. 

''Yes.  The  Bradleys  will  be  home  on  the  twenty- 
seventh.  He  is  set  on  Agnes  Bradley." 

"I'm  sorry  for  it" 

"She  suits  him.  I  know  you  never  liked  the  fam- 
ily." 

"Far  awa'  from  it." 

"Neil  says  the  son  is  to  marry  Mary  Wakefield. 
Agnes  has  been  with  the  Wakefields;  Mary  is  the 
youngest  daughter." 

"And  the  saddler  will  open  his  shop  again?" 


322     A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"Yes.  His  son  is  to  be  his  partner.  John  Brad 
ley  thinks  he  has  a  'call'  to  preach.  He  has  got  the 
habit  of  wandering  about,  working  and  preaching. 
Agnes  says  he  will  never  give  it  up." 

After  a  long  pause  the  Elder  spoke  again :  "Maria 
is  sure  to  be  happy;  she  has  done  well/' 

"No  woman  could  be  happier.  Has  Neil  told  you 
what  he  is  going  to  do  ?" 

"He  canna  stay  here,  Janet.  That  is  beyond 
thinking  of.  Any  bill  of  attainder  would  include 
him.  He  is  going  to  Boston  to  pick  up  the  lines  o' 
his  brother's  business.  Alexander  made  a  fortune 
there;  the  name  o'  Semple  is  known  and  respected, 
and  John  Curwen,  who  has  plenty  o'  money,  will  be 
in  the  business  with  him.  He'll  do  well,  no  fear  o' 
Neil." 

"Then  he'll  get  married." 

"To  be  sure;  men  are  aye  eager  to  meet  that 
trouble." 

"Alexander!" 

"And  speaking  o'  bills  o'  attainder,  I'll  like  enough 
hae  my  name  on  one/' 

"No,  you  won't.  If  you'll  only  bide  at  hame  and 
keep  your  whist  anent  a'  public  matters,  you'll  be 
left  alane.  If  you  have  enemies,  I  hae  friends — 
great  and  powerful  friends — and  there's  our  two 
sons  to  stand  on  your  right  hand  and  your  left. 
Robert  and  Allen  left  a'  and  followed  the  American 
cause  from  the  first.  They  are  good  sureties  for  you. 
And  what  of  your  friend,  Joris  Van  Heemskirk  ?" 

"We'll  see,  we'll  see.  He  may  have  changed  a 
deal ;  he  was  always  fond  o'  authority,  and  for  eight 
years  he  has  been  giving  orders  and  saying  'go'  and 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY 


'come'  and  'do  this.'  I  took  a  bit  walk  down  the 
road  yestreen,  and  I  saw  that  creature  Batavius  pol 
ishing  up  the  brass  knocker  o'  his  father-in-law's 
front  door.  He  had  raked  the  littered  garden,  and 
Joanna  was  putting  up  clean  curtains.  And  he  came 
waddling  down  to  the  gate  and  said,  'Good-morning, 
Elder,'  and  I  could  but  say  the  same  to  him.  And 
then  he  said,  'We  are  all  getting  ready  for  the  com 
ing  home  o'  our  brave  soldiers,  and  I  am  satisfied ;  it 
is  a  steady  principle  of  mine  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
government.  Governor  Clinton  bowed  to  me  yes 
terday,  and  he  is  the  friend  of  General  Washington. 
I  notice  these  things,  for  it  is  my  way  to  notice  every 
thing.'  And  I  interrupted  him  and  said,  'Your  prin 
ciples  change  with  your  interests,  sir,'  and  he  fired 
up  and  asked :  'Why  not,  then  ?  It  is  a  principle  of 
mine  to  go  with  the  times,  for  I  will  not  be  left  be 
hind.  I  am  a  sailor,  and  I  know  that  it  is  a  fool  that 
does  not  turn  his  sail  with  the  wind.  When  the 
wind  blows  west  I  will  not  sail  east;'  and  I  said, 
'you  will  do  very  well  in  these  times,'  and  he  laughed 
and  answered,  'Ja!  I  always  do  very  well.  I  am 
known  for  that  everywhere.'  So  I  left  him,  but  the 
world  seems  slipping  awa'  from  me,  Janet." 

"I  am  at  your  side,  and  there's  nae  bride  nor 
bridegroom  o'  a  day  half  as  much  to  each  other  as 
you  are  to  me  and  I  to  you.  And  if  this  warld  fails, 
it  is  not  the  only  warld."  And  they  looked  lovingly 
at  each  other  and  were  silent  and  satisfied." 

In  the  meantime  the  little  wedding  party  had  gath 
ered  at  the  alter  of  St.  Paul's  Chapel :  Neil,  who  gave 
away  Maria,  Madame  Jacobus  and  her  friend  Coun 
selor  Van  Ahrens ;  Lord  Medway  with  Sir  Francis 


324   A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

Lauve  and  his  sister  Miss  Estelle  Lauve,  members 
of  an  English  family  with  whom  he  had  been  famil 
iar.  The  chaplain  was  waiting  when  the  bride  ar 
rived,  and  the  words  that  made  her  Lord  Medway's 
wife  were  solemnly  said.  There  was  no  music,  no 
flowers,  no  bells,  no  theatrical  effects  of  any  kind,  but 
the  simple,  grand  words  of  resignation  and  consecra 
tion  had  all  the  serious  joy  and  sacred  character  of 
a  happy  religious  rite,  and  every  heart  felt  that  noth 
ing  could  have  been  more  satisfactory.  Maria  wore 
the  dark  cloth  dress  and  long  coat  she  intended  to 
travel  in,  and  as  she  knelt  bareheaded  at  the  altar, 
Madame  Jacobus  held  the  pretty  head-covering  that 
matched  it.  So  that  as  soon  as  the  registry  had  been 
made  in  the  vestry,  she  bid  farewell  to  all  her  friends, 
and  with  a  look  of  adorable  love  and  confidence 
placed  her  hand  in  her  husband's. 

He  was  so  happy  that  he  was  speechless,  and  he 
feared  a  moment's  delay.  Until  he  had  Maria  safe 
ly  on  board  the  "Dolphin,"  he  could  not  feel  cer 
tain  of  her  possession.  The  suspense  made  him 
silent  and  nervous;  he  could  only  look  at  his  bride 
and  clasp  her  hands,  until  she  had  passed  safely 
through  the  crowded  streets  and  was  securely 
in  the  cabin  of  the  waiting  ship.  Then,  with  the 
wind  in  her  sails  and  the  sunshine  on  her  white 
deck,  the  "Dolphin"  went  swiftly  out  to  sea. 

But  not  until  the  low-lying  land  was  quite  lost  to 
sight  was  Lord  Medway  completely  satisfied.  Then 
he  suffered  the  rapture  in  his  heart  to  find  words. 
He  folded  Maria  in  her  furs,  and  clasped  her  close 
to  his  side,  and  as  the  daylight  faded  and  the  stars 
shone  out  upon  her  lovely  face,  he  told  her  a  thou- 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY 


sand  times  over,  how  dear,  how  sweet,  how  beautiful 
she  was ! 

Ah !  Youth  is  sweet !  and  Life  is  dear  to  Love  and 
Youth;  and  these  two  were  supremely  happy  while 
whole  days  long  they  talked  of  their  past  and  their 
future.  And  though  the  journey  lasted  their  honey 
moon  out,  they  were  not  sorry.  They  were  going  to 
be  in  London  for  the  Christmas  feast,  and  Medway 
remembered  that  he  had  promised  Mr.  Semple  to 
"bring  Lady  Medway  home  before  the  New  Year," 
and  he  was  pleased  to  redeem  his  word. 

"For  I  liked  your  father,  Maria,"  he  said.  "He 
seemed  to  me  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen  I  ever  met, 
and " 

"My  stepmother  is  a  lady  also,"  Maria  answered, 
"one  of  the  Norfolk  Spencers;  and  many  women 
would  have  been  worse  to  me  than  she  was.  Some 
times  I  was  in  the  wrong  too." 

"They  must  keep  Christmas  with  us.  Christmas 
in  our  own  home!  Maria,  you  hold  me  by  my  heart. 
Sweet,  say  what  you  wish,  and  you  shall  have  it." 
And  indeed  it  would  be  impossible  to  express  in  writ 
ten  words  a  tithe.of  the  great  content  they  had.  For 
all  their  hopes  and  plans  and  dreams  of  future  hap 
piness  were 

"but  Ministers  of  Love 
And  fed  his  sacred  flame," 

and  the  bliss  so  long  afar,  at.length  so  nigh,  rested  in 
the  great  peace  of  its  attainment. 

In  leaving  New  York  immediately  after  their  mar 
riage.  Lord  and  Lady  Medway  escaped  the  misery 
of  seeing  the  last  agony  of  the  royalist  inhabitants 
of  that  city.  For  six  months  Sir  Guy  Carleton  had 


326    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE    NOTE 

been  sending  them  to  Nova  Scotia,  Newfoundland, 
Canada,  to  the  Bahamas  and  the  West  India  Islands, 
and  yet  the  condition  of  the  city  in  these  last  days 
is  indescribable.  To  remove  a  large  household  is  no 
easy  matter,  but  the  whole  city  had  practically  to  be 
moved,  and  at  the  same  time  at  least  two  thousand 
families  driven  from  their  homes  at  the  occupation 
of  New  York,  had  returned  and  were  gradually  tak 
ing  possession  of  their  deserted  dwellings.  The  con 
fusion  was  intensified  at  the  last  by  the  distraction  of 
those  who  had  hesitated  until  delay  was  no  longer 
possible,  by  the  sick  and  the  helpless,  and  the  rem 
nant  who  had  been  striving  to  procure  money,  or 
were  waiting  for  relatives  and  friends.  Such  a 
scene  as  New  York  presented  on  the  morning  of  the 
final  evacuation  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  November, 
1783,  has  no  parallel  in  modern  history. 

It  was  followed  by  a  scene  not  only  as  intensely 
dramatic,  but  also  as  exhilerating  and  joyful  as  the 
former  was  distracting  and  despairing — the  entry  of 
the  triumphant  Army  of  Freedom.  As  the  rear 
guard  of  the  British  army  left  the  Battery,  it  came 
marching  down  the  Bowery — picked  heroes  of  a 
score  of  battlefields — led  by  General  Knox.  It 
passed  by  Chatham  Street  and  Pearl  Street  to  Wall 
Street  and  so  to  Broadway,  where  it  waited  for  the 
procession  headed  by  General  Washington  and  Gov 
ernor  Clinton,  the  officers  of  the  army,  citizens  on 
horseback,  and  citizens  on  foot.  A  salute  of  thirteen 
guns  greeted  the  columns  as  they  met,  arms  were 
presented  and  the  drums  beat.  As  a  military  pro 
cession,  it  was  without  impressiveness,  as  a  moral 
procession,  it  was  without  equal  in  the  annals  of  the 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  327 

world.  No  bells  chimed  congratulations,  no  bands 
of  music  stirred  popular  enthusiasm;  it  notably 
lacked  all  the  usual  pomp  of  military  display,  but  no 
grander  army  of  self-wrought  freemen  ever  greeted 
their  chief,  their  homes,  and  their  native  city. 

Madame  Jacobus,  weeping  tears  of  joy,  viewed  it 
from  her  window.  Early  in  the  morning  she  had 
sent  a  closed  carriage  for  her  friend  Madame  Sem- 
ple ;  but  it  had  returned  empty. 

"Janet  Semple  kept  herself  alive  for  this  day,"  she 
said.  "I  wonder  why  she  did  not  come.  She 
prayed  that  her  eyes  might  see  this  salvation,  and 
then  she  has  not  come  to  see  it.  What  is  the  matter, 
I  wonder?" 

A  very  simple  and  yet  a  very  great  thing  was  the 
matter.  When  Madame  had  put  on  her  best  gown, 
some  little  necessity  took  her  back  to  the  parlor.  The 
Elder  was  crouching  over  the  fire  and  down  his 
white  face  tears  were  unconsciously  streaming.  She 
could  not  bear  it;  she  could  not  leave  him. 

"The  joy  is  there,  the  victory  is  won,  and  the  bless 
ing  is  for  a'  generations,"  she  said.  "I'll  never  be 
missed  in  the  crowd,  and  I  can  sing  'Glory  be  to  God' 
in  my  ain  house.  So  I'll  stay  where  I'm  needed,  by 
my  dear  auld  man;  it  was  for  better  or  for  worse, 
for  richer  or  poorer,  in  joy,  or  in  sorrow,  while  baith 
our  lives  lasted,"  she  mused,  "and  Janet  Semple  isna 
one  to  forget  that  bargain."  She  went  quickly  back 
to  her  room,  spoke  only  into  the  ear  of  God  her  joy 
and  her  thanksgiving,  and  then  taking  off  her  fes 
tival  garments,  knocked  at  Neil's  door  as  she  went 
down  stairs. 

"Are  you  going  out,  Neil  ?" 


328    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE 

"No;  I  shall  stay  with  father.  I  am  just  going 
to  him." 

They  went  together,  and  as  they  entered  the  room, 
the  Elder  looked  up : 

"Aren't  you  going  to  see  the  show,  Neil?"  he 
asked. 

"I  prefer  to  stay  with  you,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 
The  old  man  looked  from  his  son  to  his  wife  grate 
fully,  and  murmuring,  "Thank  you  baith,"  he 
fainted  away. 

Tenderly  they  lifted  him  to  a  couch,  and  he  soon 
responded  to  the  remedies  applied;  but  Janet  gave 
him  a  soothing  draught,  and  they  sat  the  afternoon 
through,  watching  him.  They  could  hear  the  joy 
ful  acclaims — the  shouts  and  songs  of  a  redeemed 
people — the  noise  of  a  multitude  giving  itself  to  a 
tumultuous  joy;  but  the  real  gladness  of  grateful 
hearts  was  by  the  rekindled  hearth  fires.  Fathers 
and  mothers  at  home  again !  After  seven  years' 
wandering,  they  knew  what  Home  meant.  Their 
houses  were  dismantled,  but  they  had  Liberty! 
Their  gardens  were  destroyed,  their  shade  trees 
burnt,  but  they  had  Liberty !  Their  churches  were 
desecrated,  but  they  had  Liberty!  Their  trade  was 
gone,  their  fair  city  mutilated  and  blackened  with 
fire,  her  streets  torn  up,  and  her  wharfs  decayed, 
but  thank  God,  they  had  Liberty!  Never  again 
would  they  be  the  subjects  of  any  king,  or  the  victims 
of  any  imposed  tyranny.  They  were  free  men. 
They  had  won  their  freedom,  and  they  who  have 
once  tasted  of  the  sharp,  strong  wine  of  Freedom 
will  drink  thereof  forever. 


LOVE  AND  VICTORY  329 

These  events  occurred  exactly  one  hundred  and 
eighteen  years  ago,  but  those  who  happen  to  be  in 
that  lovely  country  which  lies  between  Yorkshire  and 
Lancashire  can  find  in  Medway  Castle  one  frail  me 
mento  of  them.  A  little  diplomacy  and  a  little  coin 
of  the  realm  dropped  into  the  keeper's  hand  will  pro 
cure  them  admittance.  And  after  viewing  its  rooms 
of  state,  its  splendid  library,  and  its  picture  gallery, 
they  may  seek  a  litttle  room  toward  the  sunrising, 
called  "the  Lady  Maria's  parlor."  Its  furniture 
of  crimson  satin  is  faded  now,  but  it  doubtless  suited 
well  the  dark  beauty  so  well  depicted  in  a  large  por 
trait  of  her,  that  is  one  of  the  ornaments  of  the  east 
wall.  The  portrait  of  her  husband,  Lord  Ernest 
Medway,  is  near  to  it,  but  between  them  is  a  sheet 
of  ordinary  writing  paper,  yellow  with  age,  but  still 
keeping  a  legible  copy  of  three  verses  and  the  pretty, 
simple,  old  tune  to  which  they  were  sung.  It  is  the 
original  copy  of  "The  Song  of  a  Single  Note,"  the 
song  they  sang  together  at  Nicholas  Bayard's  sum 
mer  entertainment  one  hundred  and  twenty-one  years 
ago.  Lord  Medway  always  said  it  was  an  enchanted 
song,  and  that,  as  its  melodious  tones  fell  from  his 
lady's  lips,  they  charmed  his  heart  away  and  gave  it 
to  her  forever. 

And  if  other  lovers  would  learn  this  fateful 
melody,  why  here  is  a  copy  of  it.  If  they  sing  it  but 
once  together,  it  may  be  that  they  will  sing  it  as 
long  as  they  live : 

"For  through  the  sense,  the  song  shall  fit 
The  soul  to  understand." 


330    A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE   NOTE 


A  SONG  OF  A  SINGLE  NOTE. 

ttr-^— *==*=====* 


:: 


A      song      of        a      sin  -    gle      note.     But 


±t u/ 


it        soars      and    swells       a  -  bove 


The 


=^=       qp     usqzirJ-J-q 

EE  =E=P=3=^— P-P- 


trum  -  pet's  call      and    clash    of  arms,  For  the 

V h~ 


1 


name    of     the      song      is      Love,  Love,  Love, 


The  name    of      the      song      is      Love. 

Mortals  may  sing  it  here  below, 

The  angels  sing  it  above; 
For  all  of  heaven  that  earth  can  know 

Is  set  to  the  Song  of  Love, 

Love,  love,  love,  is  set  to  the  Song  of  Love. 

Then  bid  the  trumpet  and  drum  be  still, 

And  battle  flags  idly  float; 
Better  by  far  that  men  should  sing 

The  Song  of  a  Single  Note. 

Love,  love,  love,  the  Song  of  a  Single  Note. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

18Apr'57GB 


_ 


LD  21-100w-6,'56 
(B9311slO)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


